Undying Vow
by bavaria44
Summary: After the battle for Earth, the God of Thunder brought his brother home in chains. Banished into the World Without Sound, devoured by silence and darkness, Loki the Trickster enters into an alliance with the most subtle beast to bring down Realm Eternal once and for all. And on the verge of a new war, when all hope seems to be lost, a vow is made.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: Don't own the franchise. All heroes belong to Marvel.

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**Undying Vow**

**Prologue: "Limbo"**

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Fear and longing…

… Fear and longing….

… And pain; unbearable, excruciating pain made his body writhe in agony. Jormungandr was floating – not dreaming, not dying. Not yet. He was floating in an in-between state of consciousness. Granite ledges and obsidian protrusions surrounded him like the walls of a prison. And a blue-black, fast-flowing river enclosed it all and caged him in.

A sooty-red corpse-eater flew across the large, misty hall, crowing as no eagle should. The hall's walls were woven from snake spines, heads facing inward, showering the expansive floor with their caustic venom. There the Serpent lay, thankful of the streams that missed him; rueful of those that did not. Curious, the winged raptor landed on the reptile's back; not attacking, nor harassing, only sitting, one final call escaped its cruel beak as it folded its wings.

Valhalla and Midgard burned in the aftermath of Ragnarok. All the gods were dead together with the Einherjar and the whole of mankind. The Seers had predicted that some beings would survive in the Nine Realms throughout all ages. One of those beings was Dark Mother; the one goddess who made a pact with Death itself.

The Serpent bristled, scaring the bird off. "Why… sister?" he howled.

Hela, the Goddess of the Underworld, descended from the cold, shadow-veiled stalactites, and sat on her granite throne. "Because you have failed me," her voice echoed wrathfully throughout a realm swallowed by eternal darkness. Hel and Niffleheim shook in tremors. "You are useless! I should have tossed you to Surtur as sustenance!" Pure malice suffused with bitterness permeated her words. The snakes made of stone looked so alive suddenly. One after another moved its head toward Hela's brother. Light-green venom shot out from their toothed mouths, flooding the floor, searing everything in their path.

Jormungandr opened his mouth in a threatening manner, hissed and cringed away from Hela. The mordant venom bit into his body and began to eat away his flesh. He burned in a flameless fire, his scales were shedding. In terrible convulsions, insane with pain, the trembling heap cried out: "Mer-mercy!" The cry was blurred with splatters of blood, but the sole word sounded almost human, hurt and miserable.

Nonchalantly, the Goddess of the Underworld waved a hand and the snakes' gobs stopped spitting their venom. Their mouths shut tight, but their heads remained pointed at her brother. Hela spoke then, satisfied with the reaction she'd garnered from him through torture. "I will take your name out of the Book of Hel and you shall be burdened with a glorious purpose." Hela's voice was only a little bit tight and annoyed as she watched the slit pupils of her coiled up, delirious brother, go wide. "I will return your spirit to the world of the living in a new fleshen form. The Nine Realms will be restored with the onset of a new cycle, and thus will you. With the help of Odin's Tesseract the barriers of time and space will be weakened. You will be reborn when the fate of no one's king is claimed by the Son of Borr."

Anger was apt to rankle and fester within Jormungandr, and he gave a guttural snort. "What if the Gatekeeper learns of our deed, sister?" he inquired.

"Do not let your beautiful mind be troubled with fears, Jormungandr. The both of us know that the Bifrost is not the only passage connecting our realms. That despicable amber-eyed buffoon can turn his inquisitive gaze upon you throughout the entire cosmos as long as he wants to, but he will neither see you nor hear you." She approached her brother until she stood bare inches away from his mouthful of razor sharp teeth, and chanted affectionately: "I will conceal you, my darling brother. Together we shall crush the divine pantheons of old!" She reached out and touched Jormungandr with her hand carrying the taint which marbled a good half of her body, and spread it momentarily.

Inch by inch, Hela's brother's skin was necrotized by the blackness that splayed from her hand. Jormungandr replied with an undignified growl, while his rotting flesh dissolved into dust and withered into the marrow-clenching coldness.

"Worth your time, Jormungandr." Hela took in the moment a bit. "Long have I surveyed the Aesir, gauged their strengths and weaknesses from a distance," she muttered, looking grim and definite. Nothing but the surrounding caves had been her listeners; meek witnesses of changing times, charred by a fire that went out a long time ago, filled with the stench of decay. "I have grown weary beneath the ashes. The time has come for me to rule them all."

To be continued…

Bavaria

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Author's notes: Oh yes, there will be blood.

**EsmeAmelia:** Thank you for the first feedback on this prologue. I know, I know, it was like three months ago. I'm an indecisive thing, ain't I? Spent the time writing and rewriting, and rewriting the rewrites... again and again.

**Darkwinter999**: Thank you :p for your severe concrit which made my stomach churn, and I will never forget the inspiration that followed after. You made me realize that I _need_ to work on my language and my style, and I do. Every day. I'm so glad we met.

**LaughingLadyBug: **Love the suggestions and changes you made. Thank you for bringing out the descriptive author in me. I'm very happy you liked the prologue. Believe it or not, your statements brought me over some dark days.

**SubwayWolf:** Thanks for all the Marvel-expertise. How is life going for you, by the way?


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Don't own the franchise. All heroes belong to Marvel.

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**Undying Vow**

**Chapter 1: "Lust and Anger"**

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Fear and longing…

... Fear and longing…

... And silence. Poignant, suffocating silence cripples his senses. Faces, which are not actually there, take shape before his eyes. He can smell the fresh fruit and bread put on a table in a light-soaked hall, burning wood and brown coal from a fireplace a million miles away.

Loki lies beneath an oak tree, sullen, aching, in an unusually contorted position. The smell of fruit and bread is slowly suppressed by the approaching stench of decaying flesh. Something rattles in the pervading darkness. Then a hiss follows, long, low, livid. A serpent circles around Loki's body. With its wet, forked tongue it probes the air around his ear; Loki responds involuntarily with a facial tic.

_They want you dead, _in the sweet and innocent voice of a woman, the spell-bound stillness whispers into his ear, _is only a matter of when. _The voice is blanking. Mischief breeds in its every word and Loki's heart is pumping blood through him fast, he has never felt so scared before.

A fleeting sensation of light washes over Loki. The sudden brightness disperses the shadows along with the crawling serpent. Colors appear over the oak tree, over Loki's shoulder, as he doesn't move from his curled, lying position. A shade appears in the bright light. Thick, light eyebrows showing discontent, thunder-blue eyes, affable and kindly, sandy-blond strands framing a face that cannot… should not be here. A pair of calloused hands reaches out to Loki.

Suddenly, there are words. Not in the form of tones and Loki cannot hear them as much as he can feel them. Pleasant warmth spreads on Loki's cheeks and finds its way into his chest. For an undying moment, Loki doesn't feel heartless. But then, the face disappears from Loki's vision; the light dies away, becoming a memory filled with pain like the rest of his shattered existence. The darkness comes flooding back into the Isle. It carries an uncertainty with it which invades Loki's mind and soul, and fills his hot, beating heart with disgust.

Loki begins to count the seconds that will determine his destiny, watching the subtle beast sliding back to him from the shadows in a leisurely motion, savoring each movement. A prayer might help. Frigga said there is power in it. But fear is stronger; it passes right through Loki, and he laughs. Without having at least a little pride, Loki laughs; laughs at his own misery, heartlessly, not even feeling pity for himself. The trees seem to bend down and listen to his silent throes. The beating muscle inside his chest feels nothing; not for home, not for family, not for love, not for hatred, not for anything. Not even for the being it keeps alive. Life isn't worth a damn; Asgard even less. Damn it. Damn Odin for blowing fire over his ambitions. Damn Odin for taking the throne away from him. Damn Frigga for letting this happen. Damn Thor for all that he is; damn his existence.

* * *

Long has he wished never to visit this realm; two people could be searching for each other until the end of all days in this labyrinth. Thor steps onto the Isle of Silence tired and worn out, feelings which he hadn't experienced prior to any battle in the past. Thor spent hours persuading and bargaining with their father so he'd permit the young god to cross the dimensional barriers that separated the Isle from Realm Eternal. At long last, the Allfather granted three encounters. The first time Thor visited the Trickster on the Isle, Thor was allowed to see him, not to speak to him. It broke Thor's heart into thousands of shards. Deranged, delusional, in soul-sick agony Loki laid beneath the twined roots of a dying oak tree, mumbling incoherently words which remained a secret from Thor. The spell, which enabled Thor to hear the voice of his brother when the rift remained open, was a luxury spared by the Allfather for later.

Thor held his brother gently, too gently by far, as if he was trying to keep something fragile together. Loki's eyes fixed on him, reflecting his own misery. There was no struggle from him when Thor leaned in closer. _Strong_, Thor's mouth moved against Loki's brow, as if willing the life back into Loki. But no sound came out. _So strong, stronger than me, stronger than you realize._ Thor knew that Loki would sense his words in his mind, feel them in his heart. Their bond was unbreakable. A soul-bond they weren't born with, but developed and cherished throughout their infancy, and has been still present, even though Loki's soul had left Asgard.

_We were raised together._

_We played together._

_We fought together._

Moreover, Thor has always been sure – he had to be – that no matter what gruesome and horrendous feats Loki was capable of, no matter that he spread mayhem and wrecked lives where he stepped; there must be a heart. And Thor will not let the darkness win and drown Loki's heart again. There is always hope. There has to be.

* * *

"Ah, the hero," Loki croons.

Thor gives the tinniest flinch towards the voice. This is his third and final visit with Odin's consent. This is the moment when doubt settles in his mind and soul.

Hearing no response from Thor, Loki grunts impatiently. "What business have you here?"

Thor answers after a while, weighing his words, observing the reason of his visit and the source of his restlessness, "I had to see you, brother." Loki might be pretending to be in bright spirits, bickering, voice high and defiant at the same time. But Thor can notice the dark, smudgy circles that ring his brother's eyes. A condition that could result only from a mind that is rarely at peace. "You do not look well." Sick, exhausted in fact, from anxiety and distress, only a shadow of the man Thor had known.

"I assure you, I feel grand," Loki stretches his arms and laughs out loud. "So, why are you really here? Is not the time of Odin-sleep busy for you?" Then he extends his right hand toward the rift in space, before he continues with false implore: "Will you send any more friends of yours to keep me company here, Thor?"

Thor listens reluctantly and not very politely to his younger brother, even displaying open impatience, verging on frustration. His nostrils flare as he struggles to hold his temper at bay.

"Or is it the Allfather? Oh... has he finally given the order to dispose of that monster? Or have you come to satiate your curiosity?" Loki sputters in an unctuous, ingratiating manner. "I will not tell you how I raised the Chitauri army, nor about the true power of the Tesseract. Why not ask that all-seeing liar?"

Thor growls, agitated, belligerent, it makes Loki take a step back. _Ungrateful, deceitful, brewer of mischief;_ _our father sent you here where we could keep you from harm. Gods know there are beings, loathing, hateful creatures who would not hesitate to wipe your ill-fated existence off the Nine Realms. Even in Asgard, on Earth, everywhere you set your foot... and you call him a liar? _

Thoughts ripple through Thor's mind. Memories of his defeated brother twiddle and twirl like waves in a tide, the look in Loki's eyes as he faced the crowd their father summoned. Thor recalls himself spending hours persuading and pleading for Loki's sake, diminishing into a little boy again, fearful and reverent of their father… all his effort because of what? This might be the last time they see each other, they can talk to each other and hear each other... for what? Why has Thor ever come? Does he seek reunion? Does he seek concord? Does he still believe in Loki redeeming, making peace with him? Does he hope to find the brother he once had, or maybe is Thor seeking the peace of his own mind? And why would Thor do that? Why should he seek reconciliation with Loki, when Thor feels he abhors Loki for everything he has become, and Loki despises Thor? Just before the thoughts unclouded Thor's sight, he hits Loki across the face with his fist. Through Odin's spell, the sound of a bone hitting the cartilage fills Thor with satisfaction. "I wanted to do that since Midgard."

Loki stumbles backwards and sinks to his knees. A mangled sound escapes his mouth, followed by a cough as he clenches his hurting nose. A red blob appears just below the tip and soon a rill of crimson liquid trickles through Loki's fingers and down his knuckles.

Keeping his anger under control again, Thor lets out a quiet huff of acquiescence and reaches out to Loki. "Quit yourself like an adult. I did not strike you that hard."

"Do not touch me!" Loki bats Thor's hand away, staring back, stunned that Thor could abuse him like that. "You hit me!" Loki cries out. The words are laced with muffled wail.

Thor grins. _That will keep your lying mouth silent for a while. _"Yes, I did," he flexes his right hand – his hammer hand – open and shut and open again, feeling the hard bones, the muscles, and the strength in them. And by the gods, it feels good.

Loki skirts around Thor. A cry is being repressed, and it peters off into an audible wince. "Why did you hit me?" Loki moans, eyes watering, and buries his nose into his sleeve which soaks up the blood.

"You deserved it." The grin disappears from Thor's face. "Listen well, brother," he thinks a moment, "I came on my own behalf. I need to know why you have done this." Thor takes a sudden step toward Loki, "The wretchedness you wrought on Earth," and grabs him around the collar of his vest, pulling Loki onto his feet, "on Jotunheim; you almost killed an entire race. For what? As recompense for your imagined slights? Was it worth it?"

Against the pearly light coming from the rift, the shadow of Thor seems larger than any time before, and Thor's eyes more grasping and piercing than Loki can remember; they seem to strip the clothes away from him, and then the skin, leaving nothing but his soul naked before Thor. Impaled, Loki shifts and avoids the pair of thunder-blue eyes, his own slowly going shiny again. There are memories, there are echoes of a crackling fire, slumbering hills beneath a moonlit sky, which make the ground underneath Loki's feet stagger. There is rumble of hooves, whistling wind in hair, and laughter which cuts deep into his heart, and dispels what's left of it.

Clenching Thor's wrist, Loki snarls as civilly as possible, trying to hide the venom in his voice, "As remuneration for your counterfeit endearment – a burden I had to bear during all these years." Loki takes a couple of calming breaths before he continues. "Yes," the word stuck in his throat, the merest whisper. "Yes it was."

Thor's voice abandons him. He gropes for words that do not come. His eyes sweep back and forth, left and right across Loki's face. Once upon a time when Thor was a child, he had put his mind in to finding Surtur's sword. He had a quarrel with his father who wouldn't let him tag along the Warrior's Three. His mother told him then, that a word uttered in wrath cannot be taken back; and the world it scattered, cannot be restored unless and until a solemn reconciliation is sought and brought about. Thor's sight falls on his arm, his fisted hand griping Loki around the hem of the wretched fabric that used to be a royal garment. Swallowing the anger, he shudders.

"J-just curious, what hap-happened to your penchant for charismatic con-conviction," Loki sputters out, voice trembling but his stare darkens."When did your mighty fists become a substitute for your mighty speech? You were so tall, you were so courageous, so confident in every your damn word and deed. I may not remember everything, but I remember enough. I remember a time when you taunted the Dark Elves with plain words about the power of Mjolnir. And you honestly believed it would scare their hordes away. Just like that, without a battle." Loki snickers mockingly, "Half-witted oaf," and hisses quietly, so Thor cannot hear it, "...but you have done it." And then he locks his eyes onto Thor's as if he tried to bore a hole through his skull, "You could have done it. You could have made them see, made them understand the greatness of my doing. You could have striven, but you would not... will not for a monster for a brother."

"What?" Thor almost whispers, not really hearing his brother's words as he lets him go. Strange bitterness roots in Thor. _A monster for a brother,_ he spouts the words over and over in his mind. Before Thor had wielded the mighty hammer, before Mjolnir had been truly his, there were many dangerous quests to be overcome, many powerful foes to be defeated... and he had seen monsters, hiding, sneaking, and moving with the shadows, crawling in the dark. Storm Giants, Frost Giants, Rime Giants, Jotunheim strives with bloodthirsty races; winged dragons of Niffleheim, hungry fire demons, venomous, giant-sized spiders, serpents so large like branches of Yggdrasil. Oh yes, he had seen it all. Thor had fought monsters, outmaneuvered them, slain them; no, as much as others would want Thor believe, he does not see a monster in front of him.

A sudden pain wears Thor down like a heavy coat. Thor catches a glimpse of a blue, blue sky above his head, and white sand beneath his feet. On a clear day, three children sit by a glittering, jade-green sea, and play; Loki, eager to learn, eager to be taught; Sif smashing and cutting through the air with a wooden sword; and Thor, reciting Odin's great victories and kicking the sand. The sunny day turns brighter, and brighter, when the brightness explodes into another moment…

Evening falls hard. Jotunheim wades into darkness. The sky turns saturnine and full of clouds. Northern, ice-cold winds begin to blow. Troubled, half-frozen waters churn beneath Thor's feet as he limps over a hanging bridge. The bridge is wobbling with a tearing sound. Everywhere Thor looks, there are vultures at his back. A storm is building… _"Like the lies you made up for all that you lack,"_ Thor rants in anger; one cold hand clasped around a blood-stained sword, the other around Loki's back. Thor faced the giants' ire after his beloved brother had deceived him, thrown him out into the open. _"It is your fault!"_ he shots Loki a painfully hateful stare. Loki stares back without a word, never letting go of Thor's hand, bracing him during the entire escape. The storm is twisting, roaring high above the siblings. The Warriors Three's sailing ship has left the bay. And help is nowhere to be seen. But... there's a light, where the darkness ends…

In a stunning blaze of white, the light explodes; it brings Thor out of his silent reverie and lands on Loki – looking right past him; _a monster for a brother._ Here they are, standing at a crossroad between the past and the future. Both were born to be kings, both were raised to rule. Two Children of Asgard; one Son of Thunder; one Son of Mischief; bound more by competition than blood ties, a rivalry almost as immortal as the Aesir themselves; an heir to his father's throne and the monster, Loki, the scoundrel who seized every opportunity to hurt him, especially in his heart.

"So," Loki brushes off some dust of his attire, seeming intimidated by Thor's sudden fervor, "where do we go from here?"

"You tell me. What am I to do now, Loki?" Thor watches Loki sit down, looking gob-smacked right back at him. "Father has forbidden your return. He employed the Enchantress to seal the dimension off. You cannot simply sneak your way out. Neither can I...," Thor runs a hand through his sulky face and then nods to himself as if to give consent to the following: "But I promise you I will find a means of bringing you back home."

Loki pets the bridge of his nose cautiously. "Home… where is it?" There's sadness in his voice that would have brought him down to his knees if he were still standing. "Is it Asgard?" Loki had lived in that place, and had known all the faces. Although each one different, they had been always the same. They meant him no harm. But when Loki reached adulthood, the time came to face the truth: they were never going to allow him to change. Loki was going to remain the weaver of mischief. But he has never dreamed that home would end up where he thought he didn't belong. "By the gods, for what would you want to bring me back there? To kneel down before Odin at the end of his golden stair-well in chains, crawling and contrite like the last time?" he watches Thor out of the corner of his eye, "Or Jotunheim; let the monster be among his own kind," the Trickster makes a vague hand gesture, "Or your precious Earth perhaps," and huffs a little but remains seated. Frustrated, he drops his head into his hands. "You should have handed me over to your quivering sycophants when you had the opportunity..."

"Did I ever break a vow, Loki?" Thor cuts him off and their eyes meet.

* * *

_Thor looked flabbergasted by the view from the small, round window. "This is a view of Asgard like we have never seen."_

_Loki uncovered himself from the blankets and stepped next to Thor, saying listlessly: "And one I have never cared to see."_

_"You always fret, Loki." Thor was happy that he could argue his little brother into this quest, and proud that they smuggled themselves on board the Warriors Three's ship successfully. "The Warriors Three have returned from this adventure for the last three seasons with nary a scratch."_

_Loki thought about how much of his powers the shrouding spell had drained to hide them below the ship's deck. The boy feared that if it came to a scuffle, he wouldn't be able to save them both just with the trickery. "But we are royalty, Thor. We are not equipped to handle adventure." What was he thinking, getting talked into sailing to Jotunheim and search for Surtur's sword?_

_"Fear not, little brother, for I have a skilled hand with the blade. I will protect you," Thor replied proudly._

* * *

Memories seep from Loki's veins too, whether he desires it or not. The endlessness in them is what he fears, and he has to try hard to drown it in his black heart. "Why do you dwell in the past, Thor? You drag it with you like a child's pendant." Seeing Thor bereft of will and smile, looking down on him, Loki realizes, he carries one pendant on his own. What was that Thor said after they had fled from Hakurei, retrieving one of the dragon's scales, so Odin could make himself a sword? Sif harbored the suspicion that Loki warned the beast, and it nearly killed her. It should have in fact. But the brave, damned Thor demanded to do his heroic part and saved her. In return, Sif wanted her vengeance. But Thor stood up for Loki. _"We cannot leave him behind,"_ Thor said. _Oh, Thor, I know you do not want to let me go. But someday, you will change your mind, _Loki wanted to reply, but never did.

Thor's enthusiasm leaves him, along with the reminiscence. There goes this unpleasant feeling again that makes his heart jostle. With a voice scarcely above a sound Thor simply realizes: "It is true, you have forgotten it all. All that we have done together means nothing to you. You believe that I think myself above you."

_I remember a shadow, living in the shade of your greatness. You thought I was content to let you stand in the light... that it was my way. _"Do you think yourself above me, almost-king?" _No, dear Thor, _"It was you who made me walk always a step behind."

"Loki, I have never…," Thor begins, and then does not know how to continue.

„_Know your place, brother!"_ the memory of their last battle in Jotunheim echoes in Thor's mind, nettling his temper. So he shakes his head, once, twice, and bites his lower lip and fixes his eyes on a random tree. "There are things... there are things all of us have done in our lives that we wish we could forget. Nothing can erase the past, neither for me, nor for you, nor anyone else. All we can do is bringing our paths together." Hearing an irate snort coming from his brother, Thor starts to look more than a touch uncomfortable. However, he averts his gaze from those petrified branches that were a living tree once upon a time, and faces Loki. "You… you still have to walk it on your own. How you live your life is your choice and your choice alone. But, at least, you will have company."

A bark of laughter forces its way from Loki's throat. "Words, Thor! Naught but hollow words," the lie-smith croaks in jovial malice, breathing hard. "Besides, what makes you think that I want your help? Maybe," he makes an all-encompassing gesture, "yes, yes, I have chosen this. It is a small price to pay considering the reward."

Thor's eyebrows rise, crinkling his forehead. "Do you want to haunt this realm forever? Redeem yourself!" He demands with a sudden frown.

Loki hesitates and then he smiles unhappily. "Make me."

Whether it stems from blind fondness or merely a sense of responsibility and goodwill, Thor hears himself say: "You cannot go against Father's imperial command. Do not compel him to battle. Do not compel me to battle against my own brother." His throat is choking with guilt and regret. "Allfather's word is law."

Green eyes widen in anticipation. "Laws can be broken. So what have I to fear?" Loki watches Thor avoiding his face. "Look at me!"

Thor's eyes snap back. "Suture you shut, removal of your magic…," he reveals speaking in haste, "… and exile to the slopes of Jotunheim."

Loki freezes and hesitates, fighting the urge to shudder. "Then so be it."

It's the honesty in Loki's words that rips Thor's heart open. The resignation in that tone runs chills down his spine. Startled, Thor looks back in utter disbelief and shock.

"A thousand pardons, noble Thor." The words are dismissive and sarcastic. "One has to do what a pariah must do. One has to shed that risk." Loki can feel the heat building behind his eyes. But there are no tears. "Tell me, does your heart leak or does it break to know that there is nothing the mighty Mjolnir-wielder can do? All of your brute good-for-nothing strength is never a match for Odin's shrewdness and cunning."

Thor bites his tongue against resentful wrath and reflexive denials. Worries enclose Thor's heart in a firm grasp. Thor is reminded about the day when his father's spear cracked against the golden floor with a deafening sound and sealed Loki's verdict. Of those fearful verdant eyes that vex him night after night in his sleep. And taunting whispers in his dreams and after he wakes and the day reaches its peak. Even then, Thor recalls their life before everything fell apart. So he can hold onto these vestiges of memory a little while longer. Ignoring the doubt tattling in his mind that his brother is gone forever and there is no way of bringing him back. And above all, murmuring that this is his fault, making the guilt less and less bearable with every passing hour.

"I will escape out of this jail," Loki sputters a bitter, mirthless chuckle, "with blood and fire. You will not be overly fond of what follows after. I will bury in the ashes of Asgard everything you hold dear, from the cool ocean depths to the highest spires of the golden, royal palace. And you, monster-slayer, you will watch it. Trust me, you will not be so confident then, Thunder God."

If Thor had his Mjolnir with him, his right hand would tighten about its haft subconsciously. Thor knits his brow in thought. _Together, we climbed trees, hills, we swam across lakes. We skinned our knees; we skinned our hearts… together. But I will face my demons if I must. If it truly is my fate, I will shed my worries, shed my struggles I have carried since you have fallen, and meet my destiny. And I warn you, brother. Likewise, your fate will wait patiently for you._

Eventually, "I know it is difficult, but for now, you have to be strong now, for you must stay here," is all Thor is able to say, ineloquent and incredulous. Nevertheless, his voice galvanized by sudden ire rises: "You have gone too far! You have killed the innocent as if it were a childish play!"

"Humans' fated lives are of little value, insignificant and petty. Not so long ago, you thought that too." Loki breathes his words out slowly, as if he was revealing a secret. "Why do you resent me now? You craved battle, you longed for it. What has changed? Do not tell me it is still that wicked mortal creature?" Savoring the discomfort that displays on Thor's face, he continues, "What? Will you not twaddle about her making you realize your fallacy and deal with some ghosts of your past, Thor? Will you not spill some hogwash how she made you find your strength in a moment of weakness?"

Thor struggles to pay no heed to those rough words. He looks for a remnant of the once brother he adored. But he cannot find him anymore. Nothing dwells there in Loki's stinging gaze. Nothing but madness and a depthless black abhorrence that will leave Thor's heart aching for the upcoming hours. "You brought your battles to Earth, to Jotunheim and your home. The Bifrost is destroyed, the path between the realms sheared…," Thor breaks off, feeling the exact opposite of strong. "I do not understand you, brother. Where does this hatred come from? From which seed does it sprout? Such cruelty, where does it brew?"

"Forbore!" Loki shouts, shaking with revulsion. "You stubborn and obstinate fool! I have heard enough! Be gone!"

Thor lets out a reluctant sigh. His throat is tight and he is exhausted both in body and in spirit. "I wish," he says in the end, keeping his voice forcibly even, „to be the brother you deserve, I sincerely do. Perhaps one day, you will find it in your heart to forgive me of all wrongs I have done you. Until then, my concern is to keep Asgard safe until father awakens from his Odin-sleep. I am sorry, I truly am. Goodbye, my brother."

Loki festers in silence. So does Thor. Neither of them breaks the eye-contact for a long, withering moment. Eventually, Thor is the first one who looks away, turns on his heels and slips from vision into the illicit rift. A flicker of Thor's red duster remains seared behind Loki's green eyes like a burn mark made by an iron seal on a flack of pink skin.

Minutes of silence later, though, Loki finds himself say, "Farewell,"nearly spitting in to the sealing rift, and waves his hand in a goodbye.

* * *

Meanwhile, in Asgard, Frigga watches the scene fidgeted and fretted from the side of the High Seat, which allows her and her husband to survey all realms. An unsettled foreboding roots inside her stomach. She has the gift to predict events or developments before they happen. But, more importantly, she is a mother.

The memory of Loki sitting opposite her by her husband's bed, the both of them watching the god slumber peacefully in his Odin-sleep, crawls into her mind with intense clarity. _"__There is always a purpose to everything your father does, Loki." _It provokes her lips to turn up in a coy smile. But the moment is short-lived. The merry memory is overrun by another. As if Frigga were looking into the mirror, she sees her own self turning away from Loki with no pride and respect whatsoever. She still can sense Loki's stare upon her with the same might as on that day when Thor brought him home. Loki never faltered the entire time he was paraded through the corridors, muzzled and chained. Ever since her sons had returned home from Midgard, she, their loving mother, battles the shame for letting Loki go and walking away when he needed her the most.

Thrown by this vision so upstart and alive, she bursts into tears. Thin-lipped and tight-shouldered, the Queen leaves the Hall of the Shelf of the Slain and goes to tend to her sleeping king for the rest of the day, dragging her shadow with her.

To be continued...

Bavaria

* * *

Author's notes: See you *waves a hand* in the next chapter where Loki reaches a momentous decision and the author of this story (that's me :p) overwrites the Norse myths.

**EsmeAmelia:** Thank you for turning some awkward-sounding sentences into readable text ;) and fishing out all the slang-like words.

**LaughingLadyBug: **I never seem to get the spacing right but it's not intentional; either FFN is acting crazy or Idk. Anyway, you did amazing job despite this inconvenience, foremost, thank you for helping me getting into Loki's head.

**When In Doubt Smile:** I just LOVE the inspirational comments you leave after editing each paragraph. My favourite? "Write first, then worry about it being in character" :p And "standing at a crossroad..." a brilliant idea!

**Subway Wolf:** Changing some parts written in italics to plain font was a good idea. I didn't get a sore eye reading my own story after your first check. Oh, and thanks for the review!

**Darkwinter999:** Thank you for the job you'd done on the first part and the inspiration for many, many re-writes in this chapter.


	3. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Don't own the franchise. All heroes belong to Marvel.

* * *

**Undying Vow**

**Chapter 2: "Greed and Gluttony"**

* * *

_"Loki of Asgard. You are unworthy of your title, unworthy of this realm, and you have brought shame on your family whom you have betrayed! Therefore I, Odin the Allfather, in the name of my father, and his father before, banish you to the Isle of Silence!"_ Odin's mighty voice roared through the throne hall. The Trickster God encompassed by a sudden flare vanished into the void.

The memory is fresh like a wound. Loki lay there devoured by blinding darkness, thinking that Odin was going to kill him eventually; silently, discretely, cleanly. In silence he cried, prayed for his death, prayed to be forgotten.

* * *

Near below, in a shadowy alley built by dried-up roots, a movement stirs Loki out of his reverie. A pair of prying crystal-blue irises meets his green ones. Loki flinches and stares bereft of belief as _she_ moves out of the shadows. A faint, discernible pattern is etched into the soil where she stood. Distant stars illuminate the only soft skin on her strong and ghostly face. The scales around her ears and neck reflect any remains of light in this realm as the slender figure takes another light and noiseless footstep towards the outcast.

"You know how the first demons came into being?" Her double voice sweeps across the vastness of this place like the wind. It resonates throughout each flint, slate and piece of petrified wood, mocking the Father of Gods and his soundless dungeon just by its appearance. "Dreams they were, nightmares brought to life by the hopes and fears of Men."

_So the beast has truly found a way to breach the Spell of Silence._ "Your hour has not yet come, Jormungandr," the gift of seer-craft gives away to Loki.

"I have not heard that name for a long time, Loki." Jormungandr bows her head in acknowledgment. Her hair – if the stalks, segmented like insect's legs, can be called that – falls into her striking face and brushes her shoulders with a rattling sound.

Loki stares firmly into those much-too-bright eyes in stark contrast to her mottled gray skin and the rest of her body covered in a glossy protective carapace of the color of the midnight in Midgard. "What is that you desire, Serpent?"

Jormungandr narrows her eyes, "My desire? My desire is yours: victory; your victory and your glory," she unravels with certain modesty, "against Odin's beacon of hope."

Loki cannot resist the snort coming out of his throat. "How dare you think that I, Loki of Asgard, would ever be in need of helping you?"

The Serpent's blood red lips tilt up in a grin. "Oh, but you will, my dear prince."

Loki's frown deepens. _Idiotic, insufferable culprit, _"What makes you so certain?" he grits out between his clenched teeth.

"Imagine, Loki. There are worlds beyond that which you know. Worlds beyond that which even the Allfather knows. Bifrost, or even the Tesseract, cannot take you there. No, what I speak of are powers beyond the reality of the gods. A wheel of destruction and rebirth; Asgard itself is locked in this cycle of Ragnarok and the new-made world. Many realms there were before the one you know, and many yet to come to pass. There are many Jormungandrs, just as there are many Lokis, and many Odins. Each one exists apart from the others, yet is conjoined by a shared essence, like the branches of Yggdrasil; apart, but sharing the same sap. Each his own, yet bound by a common character. And as I have seen many Odins become king, I have never seen one Loki to rule."

Almost unendurable heat sets in would-be-king's stomach. "What have you seen?" The lie-smith shoots the creature an unfavorable, half dubious, half curious look. "Tell me everything. How can I break the cycle?"

Jormungandr inclines her head, "How best to make a hero?" She draws close to Loki, too close, looks into his eyes, consolingly. "You are eternally defeated by _him_. This revelation terrifies you, and throws you into a rage against your golden brother." Jormungandr says archly with mock solemnity.

Between little gushes of laughter which shake her shoulders clothed in scales, she regards Loki's wistful face with a questioning look. "Must you accept that from any abject state, Thor can, and will, rally? That from each depth of misery he is destined to rise to even greater heights? Must you witness a thousand battles, all ending in the same manner: Thor triumphant, Loki vanquished?" She lays a hand on Loki's shoulder, giving him a light squeeze. Then, she whispers into his ear in a cold breath, "I can fulfill your dreams – to rule Asgard, the victory of mind over might; your worth at last clear to see for those that showed you no love. All this for the death of your dearly beloved brother."

Loki eyes the clawed hand on his shoulder for a brief moment. It feels heavier than it ought to be. "He is not my brother!" he barks out and untangles himself from Jormungandr.

"To his misfortune, Thor does not see through your eyes. The Thunder Bringer regards himself as your brother, he loves you, and it is our strength. For only death, his or yours, can end the cycle. You have tried, but did your thoughts conceive what would happen next?"

Loki stutters out a little bit weary, "I… I never said that Thor will die."

Arcing blue eyes crackle with a sudden rush of yearning. "I can take your place if you wish it?"

Loki attempted it many times. It was never done. Is it truly because of the accursed Thor, that he is exiled to this barren Isle? And yet, what is a villain without a hero? What is a nemesis without an archenemy? What is Loki without Thor?

Lastly, Loki reaches the momentous decision. "My body may be imprisoned but none can stop my craft from roaming the universe in search for revenge. When there is one day of Odin-sleep left, the Asgardians celebrate the victory against the siege of darkness. While mead and ale is pouring in streams, it is then, when Odin's firstborn will seek peace. I will open the doors for you, Serpent, and you shall have your war."

Jormungandr leers, "And you shall have your kingdom, my Asgardian prince."

The Asgardian prince grimaces, "I am the monster parents tell their children about at night."

The Serpent smiles at that comment, "No, Loki," revealing a set of sharp ivory teeth. "The monster parents tell their children about at night is me."

Jormungandr's scleras brighten, glowing in entirely white. A purple mist cloaks the both of them in the dusky air. Embraced by the veil of magic, she preens. "You have not yet asked me how I came here."

Green eyes go skyward. "Please, do enlighten me."

"The Thunder Bringer visits you alone, on behalf of the Allfather's wish. Your beautiful, darling magic-wielder Amora has put a spell on every path leading into this world, so that only one that bears Odin's blood may travel to and from. No one else can go past this spell."

Loki stares at Jormungandr – the snake in the body of a woman. The creature's appearance strikes bloodshot chills up and down his frame since the encounter began. "Go on, I am dying to know." Hinting a weakness to that monster would be his last mistake. So he quells the sensation and remains audacious.

Jormungandr's scales on her left arm gap and reveal seemingly human skin beneath them. It's marked by a sole burned rune. "Odin's blood freely given; it flows through Thor's veins... and now through mine," she admits with misprision. "After the last battle in Nornheim, when you veiled your brother and yourself in smoke and ran back home, Odin's trustworthy but weak-minded servant Ardor treated Thor's wounds. He named his price. Truthfully," she sneers, "his price was high, but worth it."

"I see," Loki mulls her words over in his mind. "So begins the end of Thor," he laces his hands behind his back absently the moment before he feels the heavy clawed hand upon his shoulder again. And he catches himself fighting the whip-crack urge to yank away from that cankered reptile. Or, at least, to uproot that damn arm and mutilate the pestilence it belongs to, to the point of non-recognition.

"One more deed remains, my prince," Jormungandr whispers from Loki's backside. "I will help you destroy Thor; I will help you destroy Odin; I will help you destroy them all." She chants with a smirk, "But, before it can happen show me your arm... please."

* * *

Asgard, the shining light of the Nine Realms, celebrates. Its people enjoy a peaceful night at the palace. Banners hang on either side to form a corridor down the middle of the brightly lit throne hall. Giant doors are opened at one end. A slim figure silhouetted against the bright light beyond walks forward – Hogun the Grim, eyes like a hawk, brooding as always.

Volstagg the Svelte stands by a brazier. His polished breast plate shines, hiding the large part of his tunic which he has already managed to sprinkle with beef sauce.

Lady Sif watches a flock of dancers with Fandral in its center, gliding across the floor. She is the only woman who is dressed in armor. The warrior-maiden had made her raven locks into an elegant ponytail as the palace maidens do; a beauty not to be trifled with. Later, she fixes her wistful gaze upon the empty throne. Sif keeps a neutral expression on her face, so no one can accuse her of being bored. The musicians seated in a gallery high above the hall set a livelier pace, just as she takes her leave.

Sif passes at the guards standing at each wall, at each corner. Her steps lead her to the Orangery, the garden of breath and life, where the flowers never wither and the leaves never fall off the trees. But Thor is nowhere to be found. So she mounts a horse and spurs it toward the fateful place where the Observatory stood barely two years ago. A cold breeze blows past her. She doesn't seem to mind the frost-fallen leaves rustling behind her.

* * *

_Sons of Odin rush at each other, their weapons collide._

The rainbow energy roars through the broken Bifrost Bridge and spews out into space. Thor sits cross-legged at the jagged edge. He stares at nothing but the stellar void, feeling the creeping, phantom ache behind his eyes that comes from restless days and nights. Vapor is building above the frothy waterfall; its roaring waters drift off into the blackness. The heavens seem darker today. The winds soar above Thor, carrying slivers of a preterit battle.

As fresh as the morning air is the memory which draws Thor down and shatters each attempt to betray the sadness and enjoy the merriment around him.

_"It is over." Thor's whole world seems to stop at the Allfather's words. Odin leans a wrinkled hand on Thor's strong but drooping shoulder. "You have to let go, my son."_

"It was never over," Thor murmurs under his breath. "And it will never be." _Loki has always been the one for mischief. Behind his varnish smile, there is a grievous appetite for rawness. Under his guise of neatness, there is an unashamed and perverse delight in creating chaos. Inside his heart lurks a wicked inclination toward causing pain to others, even to his closest family. A depthless well of spiritual suffering harbors in his soul. All kinds of healers tried to help Loki. But it seems that no one truly can. Why, brother? Why did you let go? You looked me straight in the eye and you let go._

* * *

Heimdall stands at his usual post, the massive sword in his hold. There is something other-worldly about the Gatekeeper, even for this realm. His stern, intimidating face is virtually concealed by armor. Something glints beneath his visor, like twinkling stars.

Sif greets the Gatekeeper mildly before she joins the doleful god. "Thor, melancholy is an odd habit for you. What burdens your warrior spirit so much?"

Dark blue eyes flicker to her. "Sif," Thor offers her a tiny smile. "Days of laboring around my father's chambers," he begins unsteadily, forcing his voice not to rise into anger or digress into lament, "inside of my father's kingdom, amongst the trophies and relicts of his life..."

Thor fists his hands and props himself onto the bridge and straightens, shifting the strained muscles which still haven't healed properly. "Everything that was destroyed, all lives that were lost… my brother… my enemy," he amends, sounding wryly in a strange way, "disowned. I thank the stars every day that Father took pity on him and did not deprive him of his magic. That would have sealed his fate." He looks away, a hopeless gesture to hide the expression of hurt and betrayal imprinted on his face. "And my beloved Jane being in the realm of mortals… it can take a toll, Sif."

"Perhaps," she says, quiet and almost shy, "all this would not be so bad to bear if you had someone to bear it with…?" Sif stops in the middle of her sentence, seeing that Thor is straggling away... as he does often lately.

Thor closes his eyes, lost in contemplation, he breathes out quietly. _I had never showed you I cared. I assumed you would always be there. I took your presence for granted. _

Thor's thoughts shape to ghosts whispering with biting honesty that he will never be content with a past he regrets, when his words were swords with which he wounded. Burdened with blame, Thor remains trapped in the sea of shadow-dappled trails of bygone and buried days and dreamy memories, not able to finally be at peace with himself.

"Thor?" Sif's smooth but worried tone brings the warrior back into the starry night above the ocean.

"I miss my brother," Thor says in a thin voice, nearly a whisper. "I want to bring him home."

Sif blinks, partially out of surprise, but there is also anger and bitterness involved. She finds that thought more than troubling. _Why? Why would you do that? Why would you save the one who tried to kill you, to kill me? The talented liar who has always been jealous of you? He should be flogged for every misdeed he has done to us._ But her disconcerting words remain unspoken… for now.

Thor's face softens, but the tone of his voice remains cold and resigned. "His rakish charm, his witty cleverness... he made me laugh like no one else alive. We were apprentices at the Observatory together as boys. We used to sit here, learn to tell the constellations apart. I was never happier. He had always beaten me. I was so proud of him. I should have told him every day." It boils underneath his skin, a feeling that he doesn't sense for the very first time; the feeling that overtakes him once in a while and screams remorse.

At first, Sif shuts her mouth with a snap. "Thor." She furrows her brows and her words come out grudgingly, "His villainy had put us all in this state. He may not have done the deed himself, he may have been under the influence of Tesseract, but the near fall of Asgard and Earth is the doing of Loki."

"I had it all backwards. I had it all wrong." Thor's hands clench at his sides. "I should never have let him go," he replies solemnly, his lips forming a crooked smile that sends Sif's stomach into knots.

* * *

_"I thought you dead."_

_Loki offers his brother a provocative and questioning stare. "Did you mourn?" Anger mixed with frustration flashes over his pale face like a winter gale._

_In a state like that Loki could easily dissolve into insults. Still, there are no curses, no threats of disembowelment; only the Trickster and the Thunderer stooped a little bit over his own shadow and under the weights of something Loki couldn't possibly comprehend._

* * *

_You did not, he did._ Frustration seeps into Sif's words. "We still don't know how his deeds may bring about our future. To return him from the banishment would be an atrocity. There is reconstruction to be done and dead to be buried. Do not lose yourself in thinking Loki can have a change of heart and heal anything."

_It is a fool's hope, he is Loki, after all; the Silver-tongued, the crafter of blood magic, the master of mischief,_ the treacherous part of Thor's mind insists. It requires more renunciation than he assumed it would, to suppress these thoughts into the deepest depths of his consciousness.

* * *

_Loki has been looking forward to the coronation as much as his brother has. "You are my friend and my brother." He looks Thor in the eye, all pretence lost, "Sometimes, I am envious, but never doubt that I love you." Loki says to him, to the almost-king, kindly, almost passionately._

_Thor searches his brother's face, and sees no trace of irony, no ruse. Either is Loki speaking from his heart or he is a very, very good liar; maybe both. Thor puts an appreciative hand around his brother's nape, "Thank you." _

* * *

"My dear friend," Thor says as he reaches out and taps Sif's back. "I do not know what has happened to my joyous little brother, but I cannot imagine my life devoid of him."

Maybe Sif wanted to reply with a hurricane of reasonable phrases with the purpose to hammer some sense into Thor, but maybe not. They would never know because the Gatekeeper interrupts them. "A storm is coming," is all he says before a tidal verdant wave races through the golden fields. It overruns the golden gardens, golden houses and statues of long passed gods, and smashes down everything blocking its way.

A hole opens in the clouds. A blast of dark energy bursts forth from it, and small objects are coming firing into the Realm. They burn across the Asgardian sky like meteors.

As the shockwave subsides into the thoroughfares, Heimdall's gemstone eyes are still focused on the green surge of energy. While the sea turns carmine, the stars go out, the sky verts dove-gray, raining flakes of ash. And the screaming echoes north and south.

Thor's mind begins to race. "Heimdall, you must reach the Gjallarhorn and warn the city. Sif, find the others; protect my family. I will marshal the guards."

"I will help you as I can with what I see and hear," the Gatekeeper responds in his flat tone as usual.

Lady Sif gives Thor a knowing nod and wordlessly, clenched jaw, mounts her bay horse and rides wildly across the bridge back to the capital city.

* * *

The rumble is shattering, ominous; it echoes from the shoreline and through the streets and squares. It sounds less like the explosions of battle but more as if all of Asgard was groaning and swaying and trumpeting its downfall. Like the breaking of a glacier, the nearest buildings collapse into the boiling red sea. The ruckus at the seaboard grabs Sif's attention. Nymphs are breaking out of the red tide. The hideous, blistered creatures keep to the dark corners like living shades; they are stalking, not attacking, not yet. But Sif has seen them in action before: following, grabbing, dragging, slashing, killing and devouring.

Among those beasts, a glimpse of red and silver captures Sif's attention. For a short moment, she is willing to believe. For the first time since the invasion has begun, Sif allows herself to breathe a sigh of just relief. Then, she spots the hacked and crushed torso of Heimdall in his golden armor and her eyes narrow, sparkling, promising pain. She draws her spear ready to pierce through anything that moves in front of her. _You will not escape unscathed. I put an end to your villainy. You will experience the taste of retribution from me. _She gallops toward the Thor-fraud, riding hard, holding the spear above her head and ignoring his venomous glare steadfastly.

The scene inspires a laugh by the shape-shifter who isn't even trying to vindicate his misdeeds. He raises both his hands, fingers stretched and spread, an unappealing, half-manic grin playing across his face. Putting up an enchantment, he forces threads, tethers, cords of dark green and black magic out through his fingertips into the sky above his head. In a fork of lightning, a whole current of forbidden witchcraft grazes the saturnine clouds. The clouds fray and stitch back together. And – as if in an abhorrent nightmare – grow wings and tales and turn into dozens of Nidhoggs in front of Sif's incredulous glare.

Except, Sif doesn't bother to dignify that fiend's wicked artistry with a response, instead, she screams out, "For Asgard!" her cheeks flaming with vengeance.

The carmine tide behind Sif's back begins to flood the shelf line. A large shadow suddenly looms over her. Sif looks up.

Jormungandr rises. Not in her human form, but as she was born, slithery and orphic. The legless reptile slips through the tide in a wavy motion as its long, tapering body pushes forward.

Sif's sturdy bay horse shies at that sight, neighs, bucks its rear, sending the warrior woman off the saddle.

It's a nasty fall, broken by nothing but the solid ground. Sif has not even the strength left to hurl something sharp and rude to the fallacy of Thor. Wide-eyed and shocked, she watches the most subtle of all the beasts throwing its head in her direction, whipping the tide with its tail. Sif's eyes set on to the venom dripping from its gigantic gob, between the fangs and from the fork in its tongue.

But the supple adder doesn't see her with its intrusive wan irises and slit pupils focused on the golden palace. Pure fury surges behind those starving eyes. The beast's muscles cramp and span in lateral undulation until it reaches a rocky cliff.

The tempestuous ocean rises. Waves heave and hammer into the capital city, wafting everything standing in the way. Hell's deadly instrument side-winds around the sky-high lighthouse, which marks the entrance to the port. With wide scales on its belly it grips the craggy ground and creeps up tardily. When it climbs the top and constricts around the beacon, it bristles. Hundreds of sharp and strident spikes and thorns grow from its vile head, over its scaly back to the end of its cylindrical frame.

In the somber twilight, there is a sad moment of silence. And then, as if the beast has never taken a breath before, it drags in a gust, letting out a sound that makes Sif's pulse roar in her ears. The sound pitches, higher and higher and when the behemoth howls finally, it's like the hailstorm, horrid and smashing. And then, a great full-throated roar, sudden, as if heralding doom and swift upon it echoes the insane shrieking and chattering of the nymphs on the shore.

Sif too, is one of the many shrieking and chattering on the shore. She presses her trembling hands on her ears to mute the heart-stopping screaming. And for the first time in a long, long while, Sif hears her own fearful cry before it fades away in the rumble.

Suddenly, a voice whispers into Sif's ears still covered by her palms. _"You have the capacity to hurt yourself like no one else does."_ She gives a rather half-hearted struggle before the world sways slightly around her and overcome, she collapses. And the darkness cloaks Asgard in a cape of chaos and death.

To be continued...

Bavaria

* * *

Author's notes: So begins the end of Thor indeed.

**When In Doubt Smile:** Thank you so much for your encouragements and for the "teenager reference" which, btw., made me realize that you were right ;) So I sat down with my writing, my ideas and I hope that the outcome is worth it.

**Subway Wolf:** I wasn't sure about the gender-bending until I met you :)

**Ragnelle:** Thank you so much for giving really close looks at the language and, foremost, the character of Jor.

**EsmeAmelia:** Great job with changing some inner dialogues into narration. And thanks to your work on the dialogues, Jor seems even more subtle than before. And I like a subtle Jor ;)

**LaughingLadyBug: **What can I say? I LOVE fragment sentences. The trails of Loki's crazy thoughts make more sense to sane people, after you had combined the fragment sentences and rearranged the paragraphs.

**Princess Lavender Jewel: **Followed your tweaks, done some rewrites, I hope it's obvious ;)

Thank you all; so read and review and tell me what you think about Undying Vow so far.


	4. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Don't own the franchise. All heroes belong to Marvel.

* * *

**Undying Vow**

**Chapter 3: "Fraud and Treachery"**

* * *

_"A wise king never seeks out war, but he must always be ready for it."_ Thor remembers his father's words as he runs through a garden burned down to the roots. He leaps through a damaged back wall.

It's been a while since Thor heard Heimdall's voice in his mind. _"The enemy forces storm the Northern and Eastern ramparts. The outcome is at balance. We react to their advance but we are losing ground. I call on all powers of Asgard to help us now. May Odin awaken in the right time. May your mighty rage, Thor, turn the tide..."_ Afterward the Gatekeeper fell silent.

So or so, Thor is rallying what remained of the guards to bring the people off the streets, ensure their safety. Until this is done, he must trust Fandral and Sif that they would protect his family.

Thor hears a lonesome, heart-breaking howling coming from the sea and the trampling beasts behind his back. The mournful sound propels him to run faster. He senses the danger in the shadows and crevices as he dashes through stifling smoke. Asgardians, terrified, keening and screaming, crouch just above the dirt as if they were trying to shrink themselves.

The nymphs spot Thor. Unfortunately for those creatures, the Thunderer sees them too. Upbeat and eager for battle, Thor races through a narrow alley. He pulls Mjolnir and spins it with a flourish and holds it up before the beasts. The warrior swings his hammer, and knocks the first nymph clear across the street. Then, he whirls his hammer around once again and knocks another nymph off the ground. A cocky grin displays on his face. Thor is himself again.

A nymph runs right at him on a collision course. Thor takes it out with a punch to the gut with the mold. Whipping his feet in front of it, Thor kicks out, nailing the huge creature in the carapace on its chest. The carapace cracks and the beast goes down hard as Thor's momentum carries it past.

Basking in the moment, Thor raises Mjolnir to the saturnine sky. Storm clouds roll in. Thunder rumbles overhead. A huge bolt of lightning strikes down through the center of the alley. The bodies of the nymphs are flung to the end of the street and through walls of the nearby houses now strewn with their blood. Asgardian ground rocks from the blast.

A massive nymph brute leaps down from the roof of a near building. It perches itself up and punches its giant fist into the soil beneath its feet. It's a long-range attack, causing pillars of soil to explode out in front of Thor, sending the warrior flying back.

Thor lands on his backside painfully, crushing small rocks and grit under his weight. But he keeps the hold of Mjolnir in his hand. He raises, grins and hurls the hammer into the brute. A bone-breaking blow is being delivered to the giant's face. The nymph drops to one knee before it collapses with a low, throaty grunt.

Thor hurries to the alley's end, dispatching nymphs with bare fists as he goes. He whips his enemies up into frenzy. But he is without his hammer. The other beasts seize the opportunity. A group of them swarms Thor, keeping him separate from his weapon. Mjolnir is lying on a small plaza not far away from him where it landed after killing the brute off. Thor sees how a nymph desperately struggles to lift Mjolnir off the ground, to no avail. Appeased with the scene, Thor continues fighting, his blood lust rising. He taunts the nymphs around him, the savage thrill of the heat of battle labels his face. With a battle-cry Thor races through the group attacking him and takes them out with bare hands.

Suddenly, a crumbling sound like stones rolling can be heard. Thor looks down. Dread fills him like the spring tide. He sees muddy figures moving in the soil. Dozens of loathing creatures awaken beneath the surface, rising to join the battle. The beasts swarm him from all sides now.

Thor battles valiantly, but there's just too many of them. When he is just about to summon his trustworthy weapon, he disappears beneath a pile of gray flesh. After a moment, Thor's fist forces its way up through the middle of the pile of nymphs. Thor opens his hand, beckoning.

One of Thor's attackers hears something roaring up behind him. The nymph whirls around – and Mjolnir nails the creature square in the face, taking a good half of it with. Then the hammer flies into Thor's outstretched hand. Thor raises the hammer up high, and brings it down on the ground with all his might.

A blinding bolt of lightning strikes down from above, Mjolnir channels the blast, firing the electricity out at the nymphs around him. The creatures are blasted back in a massive shockwave. They convulse, drop dead to the ground. But the force of the blast also cracks the ground below. The shockwave continues to spread outwards. It moves out to where other beasts are running, breaking up the soil beneath them, exposing the black void of the space below.

A number of nymphs races towards Thor. They open their mouths wide and breathe out a poisonous light-green fog. The swirling mists quickly engulf Thor. He is shrouded, unable to see clearly what is in front of him, unable to breathe; he dashes forward, the ground shakes underneath his feet. The beasts dare not to move for fear of falling through, into the abyss below.

The Thunder God reaches the small plaza flooded knee-deep in blood and mutilated bodies. Shattered and melting ice is strewn about the plaza. Another battle has taken place here. Some of the bodies belong to soldiers, some to women and children. Some of them are missing their heads, some of them their limbs. One man, with his tall strong build and blond hair resembling Thor, lies not far from him. His tongue is sticking out, purple and swollen, his eyes dull and filmy.

Another horrifying shriek forces Thor to move. A wider street opens on the opposite side of the square. It hasn't been entirely consumed by fire yet. It's a possible way out of here… but where to? Thor runs over the square, overlaps charred cadavers of horses as quickly as he can. He is halfway there when his ears catch a wild scream. He turns around – just to see dozens of half-alive, half-dead abominations swarming from a side lane, pouring unrestrained on to the square. Thor knows that the last time such filth slipped past the borders, it was Loki's doing. He also knows that he isn't going to make the escape.

_Die like a man! _Thor clasps his Mjolnir firmly; strains of sweat smear his crinkled face. He looks upon the dead soldiers, wondering if he should take a shield or a sword from one of them. It's not like if they're going to need it now, anyway. But since Mjolnir has chosen him, he never used a sword.

_Die like a man!_ The imperative sneaks into his mind, floats it. Where did it come from? The Thunderer tenses and waits. The beasts are running to him almost in slow motion, as if they were going through a tar pit or a mud lake. But Thor is the one who slows them down, relishing their unconcealed fear.

"Victory or Valhalla!" Thor screams. And then, an explosion tears up the square as vast amount of Mjolnir's energy hammers into the horde. The tremendous blow dissolves instantly some of the beasts into molecules. Others fly through the air, wiggling with – what appears to be – their arms and legs, before they hit the ground hard. They burn – they all burn and scream awfully.

Consumed by bloodlust, Thor fights his foes mercilessly. Some small-sized nymphs are easily dispatched across the plaza. Thor swings his weapon, wildly hacking at the legs of the remaining nymphs to cut them off. Among them, another brute is coming at Thor. But it is distracted by its panicking comrades. Thor takes advantage of the distraction and smashes the giant's knee-joints. He swings the hammer in his right hand, biceps rippling, and thrusts its mold into the brute's jaw, crushing it into mash of flesh and teeth.

The rest of the nymphs start falling back in a wave. "Cowards! Turn tail and run!" Thor watches the fleeing creatures with delight.

All of a sudden, ice creeps across the surface around Thor, making an eerie cracking sound. Thor remembers a childish verse. _And though they're large, giants can be quiet. You have to listen carefully for the sound of their footsteps. Because they may be closer than you think._ He doesn't see the attackers clearly - he just catches glimpses of them in the shadows. His grasp around Mjolnir's haft tightens and he prepares to pounce right at those unsuspecting bastards. But then...

"Thor!"

Thor turns to the familiar voice – and glances directly into the dark brown eyes of Lady Sif curled-in on a white mare stricken with crimson stripes like twining wines. Sif's arms are trimmed with cuts and bruises and wrapped around her waist.

Immense duress sets upon Thor's soul as he hurries half-running to her. "What did transpire?"

One look from him, one word and she's confident. "I have found you." Sif says with a weak voice laced with wail. "I have found you."

Thor's heart stops. He dares not to succumb to the thrall of panic. A mimic muscle betrays him, however, constricting ever so slightly but visibly a sulk on his face, evolving into sublime terror.

Cold sweat is trickling from Sif's hair and temple; blood trembles upon her lip as she speaks, "Hi-his power's in-incre-cre-dible. I sa-saw…" Blood drips out of her ears when Thor puts his arms around her and lifts her off the saddle. "I saw him… the im-impostor…," she stutters when Thor lays her down onto the ground.

Thor falls to his knees beside her. Ashes is pouring down around him. With inept fingers he removes Sif's armor from her shivering body, trying to be careful and not jostle her around much. Rusty-red stains run all up and down the underside from a wound, gushing red just beneath her breast. For an instant – suspiciously resembling an eternity – Thor doesn't move, just simply crouches above Sif rigidly and blinks in order to get his stands back. There is nothing he can do to stem the bleeding. There is nothing he can do to numb her pain. There is nothing he can do.

Sif, now wracking with violent tremors and forcing out each one of the hitching, heartbroken breaths, shoots him a dry stare from below. Moisture beads her long lashes. Something tightens in her throat, she tries to clear it. Instead of words it comes out as a cough followed by a sob, followed by a red burble. Stiffened, Sif clenches one hand around Thor's front-shoulder disc, the other on his own hands that are pressing against the wound. Red-rimmed brown eyes flash and she drops her head onto the pavement.

No light, no sound, no being. Emptiness frames Sif's vision and she is falling into the lifeless void of oblivion. On the verge of death, Sif feels a strong calloused hand, flexed open to cradle the back of her head. Her raven strands intertwine with warm fingers. The last thing she will hear is the muffled but rueful outcry filtering in from the still vital and vibrant world.

Thor, mind reeling, regretfully watches the storm-clouds convoked during the battle, evaporate above his head. He's failed; _unworthy_. The grieving god raises Mjolnir high, summoning the winds. They lift him off the ground. A new lightning cracks in the sky and Thor leaps forward. Riding the winds over the Asgardian land, speeding towards the palace furiously.

* * *

Odin's throne hall is sunless and bereft of music and laughter. The doppelganger stands straight and makes a quick flipping hand gesture. His silver armor and red duster is replaced by a green cape, a black long leather vest and a fitted green coat with golden armor and a high collar. Gauntlets settle over his wrists. The horned helmet dons on his head. It's not tarnished like when Tesseract has been flowing through his veins, but golden. "And I am Thor no more."

With the snap of Loki's fingers a magic spell sparkles to life and the light comes crawling back and environs the renegade king. Coming along with the brightness, a familiar and familial voice rips through Loki's mind. It grows loud, riddling him with sounds of Midgard.

* * *

_Earth reminded Loki of Niflheim during one cold stormy night. But he no longer stood beside Thor as he did throughout their battles._

_"You give up this poisonous dream! You come home." Thor reached behind Loki's neck, hoping to inflict something that would ease the wounded fragility of his outcast brother._

_"I don't have it."_

* * *

Loki stares at the golden throne and drags in a silent breath. "I have done it, I have finally done it. I _made_ myself belong."

Just then he spots the lifeless bodies of the Warriors Three lying among other corpses. The delicacies are scattered, the good wine spilled, and floor and walls are stained by Aesir blood. Loki takes in the copper scent. "If good defines itself in marked contrast to evil, how much absence or privation of good is needed for evil to become infinite?" he asks nothing but the air around him in an ingratiating and ice-cold voice. The echo of Loki's words reverberates through the throne hall and dies away.

Screams from outside penetrate through the walls into the throne hall like a tremendous, dreadful choir, drowned only by churning waves and groans of something not from this world. A light red hue has already formed above the shores. The air is hot and humid with blood. The thick stench of iron engulfs the golden palace in a translucent fog.

Thor bolts out the massive doorway. "Loki!"

Emerald-green eyes meet thunder-blue and the edges of Loki's lips turn up. "The almost-king," Loki says with delight. And then his tone changes. "I will kill you where you stand!" Loki screams, his voice is hoarse and ragged and definitive, and Loki's hands are glowing green. Without a word, he concentrates his powers into a random point perpendicular to the golden floor. A large, strangely shaped force field forms, quivering and iridescent. Years of pent-up rage and jealousy are unleashed in one tremendous blast hitting the stunned Thor.

Hinges snap and fly out of the arched windows. Tables split like chipboard under the force of the energy. Thor is thrown flying. In a terrible crash, he plummets through the nearest wall. A chunk of gold as big as a wine barrel hits the ground in front of Thor, startling him. Thor jolts back and tumbles on the floor. Not being able to raise to his feet fast enough, he falls onto his hands and knees. All noises fade away as if someone would intentionally decrease the sound. Dull humming nests inside his ears, he tastes the coppery flavor of blood on his tongue. Thor drops his head between his shoulders. The gory reflection of his own self on the floor below, stares back at him.

It's the last thing he notices before he flies from another blast. The immense force of Loki's magic hurls Thor through another wall on the opposite side of the room. Cracks grow bigger, shafts of twilight knife their way in through the damaged walls.

Loki's dragging footsteps echo off the walls as he advances towards the place where his has thrown Thor, his heart fluttering and jittery. "I will annihilate your existence!" He shouts, angry and desperate at once. His pained voice resonates throughout the place. A scale of emotions flashes on his face like the lightning, hatred to agony, to frustration, and finally settling on anxious resignation.

Then, Loki spots a flash of red as Thor struggles to stand up, huffing and puffing with effort. Loki hurries to him, his hands raising. It's said that words can cut deeper than any blade. Loki grits his jaw, stiff and unhappy, but decisive and strong-minded. Loki takes in a deep breath before mumbling words in an archaic dialect, long forgotten to any other soul.

A high pitched hum pierces the air. Breathing thickly and pale-faced, Thor hears it and watches Loki with glittering eyes, realizing what it represents. It's the sound of a living spell.

Rivers of steel-gray magic gather in Loki's palms. As the craft continues to accumulate, more and more blades form in his grasp. Without any further ado, Loki flings them forward, him remaining just outside melee range.

The blades scathe the air like hail and sink into Thor's armor and bare flesh on his forearms as he tries to cover his head. The magic blades burn like wild flames. Thor sinks to his knees groaning as pain shoots across his arms and chest. Blood trickles out of his wounds, dropping on to the ground. Thor's breaths become heavy and he careens his head. _I have seen your heart. I know your name..._ _What have you become, my dearest friend? _Hopeless confusion, overpowering doubt, fills his mind. _We could have it all; an empire to rule together... __Loki, you want to have me dead. You are full of broken thoughts I am afraid that I cannot mend._

Thor finds strength to support himself with his arms; his sorrowful eyes are fixed upon his smirking brother. "Do you know what you have done?" His heart pounds in his ears like a war drum.

"I find your prattling useless, Thor." Just then, Loki settles the scathing gaze onto Mjolnir, standing on its weighty Uru-metal mold on the dirty floor. The Thunder God must have let it fall after the last blow. Loki's unhinged smirk widens if only for a second.

Carefully, Thor gets back on his feet. "Curse you, Loki," he forcibly swallows, "for bringing the Serpent into our realm! The beast will not stop until all of Asgard is destroyed, until Odin has been broken! And then, with no one to rein it in, it will tear down all of the worlds!" With his right hand Thor summons Mjolnir to him. The hammer vibrates and leaps off the floor. "You have brought about a new Ragnarok down upon us all!" Thor grabs Mjolnir and swings it around. He takes off straight up through the ceiling and into the air. Storm clouds gather around Thor as he summons gale force winds. Debris from the battle begins to rise up into the sky.

Loki stays in the hall as if deadlocked, kept grounded by Thor's power display. For a heartbeat, he is worried. But then, he opens his arms. A blue flame flickers. And Loki unleashes powerful tracking blasts. "I am not done with you yet!"

Mjolnir's mold collides with Loki's blasts every time. The explosions are massive. Both brothers are hurled to and fro. A cloud of dust envelopes them. Loki, being the one on the ground, doesn't see a thing in this filth. And through the rumble, he can hardly hear the sound of whistling winds.

Suddenly, the dust clears like mists after the sunrise. Thor dives downwards, straight at Loki. Mjolnir keeping in front of him. The indestructible hammer clashes with a forest-green energy blast coming from Loki, overpowering it, pushing it back, and forcing it downwards at its wielder. Thor jams the mold deep into Loki's breastplate. The Uru-metal crushes the magic. The fiery energy within builds up and explodes, firing out into all directions.

Thor smashes Loki to the ground in a tremendous heap. Loki's magic powers seem to be extinguished forever. Thor pulls Mjolnir from Loki's breastplate. Assuming that his brother is finally pacified, Thor walks away from him. "Farewell, brother."

Debris pulled into the air by the gale winds drops down from the skies, burying Loki beneath.

* * *

Odin lies in his bed, pale, lifeless. As powerful as he still is, the years have taken their toll. He's not the foe he once has been. His body and the space around are warped from the effect of the Odin-sleep. The walls of the chamber have moved close around him, protecting him like a dark crypt, sealing off any daylight.

"Allmother," Jormungandr graces the Queen with a nod. "Pray tell that you are going to beg me to spare your worthless pathetic life."

The Queen's voice breaks under the weight of horror, she winces, hisses painfully when the Serpent's clawed fingers tangle fiercely in blonde hair and give them a vicious tug. Frigga's shaking like a leaf in a thunderstorm and she hurts, she hurts, and she is going to die.

The woman-like creature pierces through her chest with the other hand. Frigga chokes a breath. Jormungandr reaps out a good pint of flash when she withdraws her hand. Odin's Gungnir resting at the side of its king's bed falls down to the floor with a clatter. Jormungandr snaps her head to the sound a heartbeat before she plunges Frigga to the ground with incredible strength.

The back of the Queen's head hits the ground with an awful crack, splitting an oozing red wound on the back. Frigga's mouth hangs open in some kind of ridiculous mixture of shock and dismay. Otherwise sparkling blue eyes are hooded, unfocused. Frigga lets out a squeal of agony only to have it cut off by a burble of blood leaking from her mouth, spattering the shiny golden floor. Spots flare her vision and darkness embraces her limp body.

The sanguinary adder watches the queen with blatant curiosity. A blood-stained hand comes down and pats the dead queen on her slackened cheek, leaving red prints. A mockery of compassion and mercy! The Serpent licks the blood of her victim from her fingers absent-mindedly, and allows herself a broad smile as she cocks her head, and walks toward the sleeping god.

"What am I to do with you, great Allfather? The most powerful being in the Nine Realms I know," Jormungandr runs a finger across her chin idly, "now lying helpless before me. Your kingdom is falling. Your beloved Asgardians are dying in droves. I have poisoned your sons' minds and ripped my hand through your good wife. I will have to concoct something very special for you."

As soon as she finishes saying that, jolts of pain shot throughout her body like hundreds of arrows on fire. She stoops forward and slants at the still form of the Allfather. So close to end this act, yet so far.

Hela, the half beautiful, half repulsive creature hovering behind the Serpent's genuinely confused stare, draws a smile. It makes the edges of Jormungandr's depthless eyes wrinkle._ "Do not touch him, Jormungandr! I relinquished your soul, and I demand his in exchange."_

Jormungandr's vision swims. She blinks rapidly, trying to clear it. But everything just blurs all the more. "Yes-s… s-sister." Jormungandr grinds out between her blood-stained teeth as she went through her lower lip. Her face twists with scorn and disgust.

The Serpent is grinning madly but her body suffers, squirms, and screams in agony like that time so long ago. "His-s s-soul is yours-s to take." Jormungandr's voice lowers to a woesome sizzle but her grip on Odin's bed never falters to let her slip to the ground.

Hela's shadow steps out of the fleshen vessel, Jormungandr's body, glowing in black and green. "I ensure that Odin will not awaken. He is rightfully mine and I shall claim him! His soul shall be the jewel of my grim realm where is nothing for his punished soul to do, except shiver out its miserable stint in eternity. And you, Jormungandr,"with delight, Hela watches with her empty eyes as Jormungandr's mouth drops open and makes a motion to say something but no sound comes out; and so Hela continues, "you will destroy everything. But… a scene is missing between death and the glory. Odin's sons provide me with such amusement. I have enjoyed the performance so far, seeing them tormenting each other and pummeling into despair. You might think me out-of-time, but I have a heart for family dramas." Hela glares at Jormungandr – contempt written all over the Serpent's distorted face rendered bad by death and eternal struggles."Now, arise or be forever fallen."

Blood is dripping down Jormungandr's chin as she cuts deeper and deeper into her lip with sharp teeth. The pulses of pain do not wilt. They spread across her body like sparks over an electric wire.

Resisting the immediate fatigue that washes over her, Jormungandr retains her stand. It isn't very long before the aftershocks of pain begin to abate. Her ragged breath and voice get back. Only patterns of residual pain nag around the place where the heart should be.

"I have waited so long for this day," Hela's boisterous tone subdues to a low venomous rumble, "_my_ mighty Gungnir." She bends down to pick up Odin's spear, she feels taller, much taller as she actually is.

With the first touch by Gungnir a strange sort of purring warmth starts somewhere in the fingertips and works its way to her chest and stomach. Like a healing salve it proceeds upward to her cheeks and down to her legs and toes. With a temperance that comes only from far too many lifetimes of experience and practice, Hela clasps the spear in both her hands as if the weapon was something precious and breakable. She holds Gungnir before her, relishing the sudden rush of power that pulses through her. Hela feels as if the spear was transforming into her prolonged limb. Its magic is singing and thrumming, begging her to use it. It is almost overwhelming. Along with the exhilaration and zest, Hela finds herself almost weakened from it, as if she was being torn open and strained to accommodate something that she had been deprived of ages ago.

"Gungnir. Your aim is true, your power strong. With you, Odin fought battles and won wars across the Nine Realms since the time of the Great Beginning." The very thought makes Hela both delighted and terrified all at once. She sways on her feet. A hungry expression washes over her features; she begins to sneer. "United at last! Together we shall break and burn and erase it all! The Nine Realms will end, not with a bang but with a whimper. It shall be glorious." Then Hela laughs, harder and harder, and harder, until the sound is ringing, bouncing off the golden walls and fit enough to bring the house down.

To be continued...

Bavaria

* * *

Author's notes: The war is not over yet.

**Subway Wolf:** Again, sorry for Sif ;) There has been a major rewrite since you saw the story the last time. However, thank you for your help.

**EsmeAmelia:** Thank you for going through the battle scene over and over again and keeping an eye on the flow.

**Princess Lavender Jewel: **Followed your tweaks also in this one ;)


	5. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Don't own the franchise. All heroes belong to Marvel.

* * *

**Undying Vow**

**Chapter 4: "Heresy and Violence"**

* * *

_Days grew longer. Nights grew shorter. Thor had the worst night of sleep in decades. There was his kid brother, crestfallen, curled into a ball, cringed and shivering in his shadow. Loki was cold, no sunlight on his face. Thor, on the other hand, was shining; he was the one with all the glory, the one with all the strength; a handsome face, a charming smile. _

_Thor asked his brother why he looked so sad. But there was no answer from Loki. So he repeated again and again why Loki looked so sad. The lump in Thor's throat grew bigger as he tried to think of a way to calm his brother's fears which were kept secret from him. Suddenly, he knew what to do, and he stepped towards Loki. _

_The weather around them changed rapidly with each of Thor's steps. The endless Asgardian spring turned to winter. It started to snow. With every question Thor asked, the snow-storm became more and more violent. And when he stood barely inches from Loki, he reached out to him, and the snow turned to rain. _

_A rooster crowed outside. Thor opened his sleep-laden eyes. The rain from his dream turned to tears, running down, dripping onto the cushion under his head. And he realized that his brother wouldn't be around today, tomorrow, or any other upcoming day._

* * *

The walls are coming crumbling down. No shine of sun comes through. It seems as if the daylight is gone forever, only shades of dove-gray twilight fork through. Ashes fall on Thor's mailed shoulders and are crushed beneath his steps. A feathery flake sinks into an offering palm. With feigned curiosity Thor mills it between his point-finger and thumb. The ground rumbles under his feet.

Powerful magic blasts of green and black shoot from the debris into the walls and the ceiling above. There is an echoing sound of grit shelling down. When the smoke clears, Loki strikes Thor point-blank with an impeccably assessed blast. Thor flies through the air and when he plummets to the ground his grip on Mjolnir loosens and the weapon lands with a thump. Almost his entire armor is chipped away in pieces.

Loki has freed himself from the debris. Although baffled and bedraggled from the encounter and his armor tattered, he has got his bearings back. He looks at Thor for several moments as the Thunderer crumples up and collapses hopelessly with a cry that rings to the sky.

Thor makes an effort to drag himself on his staggering feet and totters a yard or two away from Loki, but his legs bend under him.

"Can it be? The mighty Thor, the pride and glory of Asgard, defeated so easily? Look at you… And you called me an imp once. No one can match my villainy. Laufey was right; the house of Odin is full of traitors."

"I do not believe that, Loki." Thor reasons, a beaten and stricken expression on his face. "You must end this madness. Help me protect what is left. Everything that still stands is worth fighting for." Thor gropes his way to the side of the wall, lying against it. The feebleness of his movements is more pronounced. A red stripe stains the wall behind him as he moves along.

Loki calls for a tendril of his wizardry. The very air wavers with its release. "Why should I waste my time with defending Asgard? For you? For that thief? That liar? And even if I do, then what? Are you so reckless, so short-sighted that you do not see how powerful the creature is?" Loki lets out a bark of laughter. "The Midgard Serpent arrived in your realm! She will cleave a path through Asgard to the eternal flame. Nothing can stop her! The race of Aesir and the Allfather might as well as burn asunder."

Thor watches wild-eyed as Loki raises his right arm and opens his hand. A pitch black sphere like the entrance to a dungeon swirls into existence, growing, pulsing with potential. Thor feels the burst of the energy promising obliteration feet away.

"I have told you. I have warned you. I will make everything burn. I will raze this realm to the ground, including Odin's favorite son." Loki adds his left hand, feeding the magic with amounts of his own life force; eyes burning in crystal-blue, voice hoarse and raged. "There is no end to it!" The room darkens as if a giant would cast his shadow upon the warring brothers, then clears after a second. The air _moves_ as Loki's sphere swirls around its master like some wraith before he redirects it. "There... is only... death!" And he steers it straight at Thor.

The sphere singes the air as it fizzes through, where the wielder of magic drives it. Thor dodges out of the way and runs toward Loki, grabbing his fallen hammer along. Just as he closes within a meter the sphere returns and slams into Thor's iliac crest like a solid stone wall. As if a concrete slab has just found his backside. Any forward momentum is instantly converted downwards, sending Thor tumbling to the ground to create his own modest trench. The trustworthy weapon falls to the ground with its wielder.

The palace shakes, the cracks grow bigger. Loki approaches and places his hand over the leather-wrapped handle and struggles to lift Mjolnir up. "Now I will have this hammer. And there will be no one more powerful than me in the whole universe. Come to your new master," he demands, no room for defiance in that tone.

But the one hammer forged by dwarf blacksmiths from the core of a star millions of years ago stays where his rightful wielder has left it. Loki tries again, with two hands, mustering all his strength. It is to no avail. He looks confused, notorious feeling of anger and frustration overtakes him. He strains with all his might, screams from the effort, bellowing at the motionless weapon. It doesn't budge. Something begins to appear on the side of Mjolnir – glowing runes. Loki looks down, sees them.

The initial sense of euphoria is quickly replaced by a chill running up Loki's spine._Unworthy; _this is how it always is. This is how he's always been; unworthy of Odin's esteem, unworthy of Asgard's acceptance and unworthy of wielding Mjolnir. Loki feels a pang of sadness that is not akin to pain in his chest. The doleful expression of a reprimanded child washes over his face. Even after all he has done, he is still not worthy of the throne.

Loki releases Mjolnir and makes his way to his defeated brother to complete his work of destruction. "Come to reckoning, Thor." He grabs Thor around the hem of his armor, mildly noticing that his magic forms subconsciously to his needs, and raises his other free hand to enact another spell. "Your death awaits."

Loki's hand is intercepted by Thor. "You brought the war home, Loki. You unleashed a monster you cannot hope to control. It baited your spirit with the bright lure of power. You think it aids you in gaining victory, but it will deceive you. It might be the end of you." Thor pauses, holding back his anger for a hope he himself doesn't believe in anymore. "What can I do to convince you to change your mind?"

Loki thinks over, and then clenches his fist to banish the force. The magic rustles but dissolves in an instant, jarring Loki back to the present. Exhausted by Thor's constant trying to inflict something within him that died long ago, a sense of weariness overcomes him, weakens him. _What can you do to convince me to change my mind?_ Loki begins to laugh at himself in front of Thor's wide and wondrous eyes.

And there's more that passes through Loki's mind; shadows of vague feelings, deep and dim whisperings, the echo of almost forgotten memories, fluttering anew, subtle and potent…

A chastened child who had done wrong to prove itself right; a young man, minded by his folk, chided by false friends. The essence of a life under the loneliness and countless masks and lies and deceits builds itself like clouds on the horizon and overcasts Loki's heart and mind. Shaking by the violence deep within, disgusted by Thor's endless questioning and demands for answers, Loki bellows back a wordless battle cry.

With one perfect, calculated blow Loki's magic rams into Thor. Thor's lungs come into an airless state, he convulses in pain, his knees buckle and he ripples to the ground heavily like a sack of meal. Accents of burning soreness fall like thousands of pins and needles upon him. The skin opens on some places from within; hot, dark red blood comes spurting out. When the air comes miraculously back, Thor screams out a beastly roar.

A maniacal cackle escapes Loki's throat. "I have waited an eternity, Thor, to crush you with my bare hands, to match your might, to feel your life fade away in my grasp…"

"Forgive me." Teetering on the edge of collapse, Thor lifts his head up at the God of Mischief, amazed by the weakness of his own voice. He's been burdened with blame for too long. He's been trapped in the past enough already. Still, on the golden floor in front of the seat of Odin in the hall that witnessed so many kings to be named and just as many subverted, the king-in-line speaks with an unsound voice. "For everything I have wound you with… for everything I have wrong you with… and warranted your wrath upon me and our people… forgive me."

Shocked, Loki gasps out, mind going blank. He is facing the same trail once more. Is Thor sincere?

Tired of lies, tired of truth, Loki closes his eyes and wants to believe... that all the times they have shared, Thor really was there for his little brother... but Loki has long forgotten how to hope. He recalls all the words Thor has spoken to him. Green eyes snap open, swimming in anger, and Loki wishes that Thor had never found him on Midgard.

Loki snarls. "You are but false words… and you call me a liesmith." He spins on his heel. The slightest trace of a smile crosses his face. He steps toward the throne. A large hand with strong fingers wraps around his ankle.

Thor isn't trying to stop Loki; he doesn't even get to his feet. With eyes conveying more than Loki could ever say, Thor stares at him, upset and resentful but unbroken and not yet finished. "Loki, if you sit on that throne, you denounce your home, you denounce your family."

"I… have… ruined… every little thing you held on to, everything you treasured," Loki begins slowly, word by word. "I have led the enemy into Asgard, using paths Odin himself knows nothing about. I have transformed mere clouds into fire dragons. Those beasts will reshape Asgard as you know it. They will reduce this kingdom to a charred desert." Suddenly, the steely cold veneer of the royal gracefulness he's been taught since childhood disappears like frost in the morning. Loki throws up his hands in exasperation before he clenches them in fists and screams in strident voice, "Jormungandr rose from the sea and entered the palace and – by now hopefully – slaughtered Odin where he slept!"

Watching Thor's face contort in anger provokes a grin on Loki's face, and he glows with satisfaction. "I, the most skilled sorcerer in the whole Nine Realms, have fooled the entire Asgardian army and impersonated you when I took Heimdall's life. And I forced myself into the very mind of your beloved Sif and manipulated her to turn the double-bladed staff against herself. With her own hands she ran herself through!"

Loki smirks at the pathetic shape of his brother. He comes down from his wild tirade breathing hard through his nose, eyes shut, lips thinned. Just then, he hears a movement, the clangor of metal rubbing against metal. His daunting eyes open, his nostrils flare, and his lips part only to form a wry smile. "But I have my limits. For instance, as I have learned throughout these years, I cannot coerce you to hand Mjolnir over to me. For that, I will have to kill you."

Then, Loki succumbs to rage. Thor grunts as a blast of magic tosses him backwards. Before he hits the ground, there comes another blast flying towards him, hurling him back into the nearest wall. Cracks race along, the wall groans under the strain. Thor slips down to the ground, wavering, panting, head hanging low.

Heavy silence confines the brothers just before the God of Thunder scrambles to his feet, growling and grunting. His right hand, his hammer-hand, clenches, loosens and clenches again. Mjolnir vibrates and comes to Thor's splayed out fingers. As the glowing runes fade away, the hammer shines brighter, blue electricity sparking off its surface. Its crackling energy seems to reach out to Thor.

Loki's face changes again. Crest-fallen, pathetic like an autumn leaf, he watches the display.

With whatever tatters of strength he has left, Thor finally charges. "You will have its thunder!" The Thunderer lunges quickly forward, sweat and blood running down his face. He swirls the hammer and whirls it at Loki.

Time seems to stop as Loki watches Thor and his weapon flying toward him with contempt. The dark-green color leaves Loki's eyes and changes to menacing blue, followed back by blazing green, burning with genuine and savage hatred. Omnidirectional rivers of magic emanate from Loki's body. They release and stymie and release again their flow. In a brief moment the air molecules freeze and enchant an icy wall around Loki.

The protective barrier is still building itself when Mjolnir breaks through it with a crack and hits Loki in the breast-armor. Loki falls, choked out. A crack appears where he strikes the ground. The shockwave evaporates the remnants of the icy wall in a split second. More golden slabs come crumbling down; the entire place is a shambles. A golden chandelier with at least twenty branches swings beneath the last solid part of the ceiling between the entrance and the gallery. Loki hears the rattling sound of chains. He looks up in breathless astonishment that gives place to shuddering fear when a fixture is loosened and the canopy jolts violently above him.

Thor extends his hand toward Loki and beckons Mjolnir back to him. The hammer goes flying to his grasp. Thor raises his trustworthy weapon to the air. _I offered you my friendship._ Clouds form above the damaged palace, thunder rumbles. _You stabbed me in the back._ Lightning arcs off Thor's hammer and through the holes in the ceiling and walls, as he channels the power of the storm into it. _Every time I put my guard away._ He gives one last remorseful look to Loki, who sits pasted by the thrill of horror just where Mjolnir slapped him down.

_Fear not, little brother. I'll protect you._ The view of Asgard shining like a beacon, distant and getting smaller and smaller as the brothers were sailing further away on the Warriors Three's ship, appears in Thor's mind. But he dares not to melt to sorrow and pity. Before Loki can react, Thor strikes Mjolnir down upon the ground just in front of him.

The blow is massive, tearing. Ground shakes as if in an earthquake. Loki goes flying backwards, smashing through walls and into the empty Odin's chamber. The fixtures of the chandelier finally give in. In a surreal moment the jangle of festoons of beads wanders through the palace. And then the whole structure plummets to the ground. The solid golden collar spirals away. Scrolls and shades blow up in a fountain of bent metal and glass shards. Some of them strike the Thunderer but he doesn't show any discontent. The gallery follows; with a sickening squealing of metal against metal, high above the hall it breaks apart. Pieces crash to the floor and scatter and fill the air with grit and dust.

Deafened and bleeding from his nose, mouth and couple of injuries hidden underneath his tattered clothes, Loki rises to his knees. The irritating dust clogs his lungs and he almost gags. He can hardly breathe, he coughs violently. The nasty, aching grains of cough choke him and force tears running down his cheeks.

With an ardor that far exceeded moderation Loki had desired Odin's place. But now that his life is hanging by a thread, the beauty of the dream vanishes, and suffocating horror and disgust clutch around his heart. Sharp, short breath intakes find way to his lungs just as he looks over his shoulder and spots Thor running through the dust that, in the meanwhile, has settled at a man-high, thick, light-brown hue.

"You have forsaken Asgard! You have damned us all!" Thor strides up behind Loki. He's nearly upon him. He sees the empty bed and his mother lying in a black pool of her own blood. A heart-breaking moan of plain, agonizing despair tears from him.

"You have betrayed us for the last time! I will kill you for what you have done!" The Thunderer swings the massive hammer at his brother. It passes through Loki. Before Thor can comprehend what is happening, a blow of blue energy is sent in between his shoulder blades. Thor utters a stressed, dull grunt of pain and sways and staggers at his feet. Instantly, another Loki appears next to him. Thor swings his hammer around, again and again, but that too is an illusion.

Loki is weakened from the battle. He has no other choice but to defend himself. By casting one illusion of himself after another he's fooling Thor.

More dust rises off the ground. The mold hits only air. Maddened with fury, Thor lets out a battle cry bordering on insanity. He hurries from one illusion to another, smashing through conjured Lokis who disappear only to reappear on a different place.

Loki after Loki appears, encircling Thor, grinning, raising their hands to enact a spell. Strange winds begin to blow, not just howling but screaming as ice and snow and darkness are being waft straight toward Thor. Ice clings to his body, freezing parts of him. But Thor still moves forward, futilely swinging at each one astral projection, never making contact. So he raises Mjolnir into the air, summoning lightning. He knows the trick. There will be no Loki's enchantments, no blasts firing at Thor, sending him sliding across the floor like a rag-doll. And Thor will never again let Loki knock Mjolnir off his hand. Never again.

A massive bolt strikes Mjolnir. It channels outwards, splitting up, striking each one of Loki's astral projections. All of them dissipate into nothingness. Save one, the real God of Mischief. He is sent flying back across the floor onto the balcony where – Thor remembers his mother's words – Odin truly confessed to her his worries after he had banned his firstborn. A new rage wakes within him.

Thor steps over to his fallen brother. Loki is lying dazed on his back. What ravages of spirit have propelled Loki's tempestuous rage, created Thor's brother a monster? Whose invisible hand has led them both to this fate?

Tired of lies, broken under the load of comprehension, Thor looks down upon his brother. Every moment is marked with apparitions of their lives and dreams, and of all the adventures they will never do. What will Thor do with all the memories now?

Thor looks about him desperately, being at a loss of what to do. He's powerless to stop what's happening. Then, a thought strikes him. Finally content with the past he regrets; finally at peace with himself, Thor realizes what he must sacrifice. _I have to let you go, Loki._

Loki winces, tries to stand, but can't. Confused, he watches Thor smugly, preparing for the inevitable blow. "Do you truly think that you are capable of delivering the felling blow, Odin's son?"

_I miss the love we shared, brother. _In a split second,Thor is upon Loki, swinging the massive hammer at him.

To be continued...

Bavaria

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Author's notes: Damn! What's going to happen next? Well, you'll have to wait and see. Mwuahahahaha!

**Labyrinthinemelange****:** Thank you so much for beta-editing this chapter, for going through the battle scene over and over again and keeping an eye on the flow.

**Xana Flec: **Thank you for the dozen of questions which helped me getting into Loki's head.


	6. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Don't own the franchise. All heroes belong to Marvel.

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**Undying Vow**

**Chapter 5: "Hell"**

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Loki's legs almost fail him as the pain from his wounds floods him again. He gazes at Thor – lying in his own blood, covered with golden dust and pulsating remnants of Loki's brawling magic, as the rest of the hall. The image stings Loki's heart in a way he would have never thought it would. "You could not do it, could you?" He mutters under his breath. "You could not kill _the monster_."

There is a chill in the air, a familiar one. A sudden, slow clap fills of what remained of the throne hall. "So, so lustful for power, so thirsty for bloodshed, so… unkind; I like that."

Loki shifts his gaze and sees the Serpent back in her human form and sitting on Odin's throne, one leg over another, burning with indulgence that could be easily mistaken with bliss.

Loki shoots the creature a flustered and intent stare. "What are you doing?"

Jormungandr slides a finger across the armrest and collects a few grains of dust. "I am keeping the king's seat warm for you." Then, she rests her chin in her palms.

After a brief staring contest with Loki, she lifts herself off the throne and steps down from the stair-well. The stalk-hair rattles with each movement. Jormungandr blinks, her scleras whiten, glowing entirely white like those empty senseless slots of the draugar monsters, after-walkers, the long-dead creatures which should have been laid to rest long ago, instead they walk the world of the living.

She feels her soul being spliced as she walks to her companion, but doesn't fight against it. When she circles around him, the shadowy presence of someone else has already taken over her body.

"I do not mean to be imperious," Jormungandr, fully conscious, listens to the familiar, patronizing voice of Hela coming out of her own throat, bluntly realizing that Loki does not hear the difference. Out of habit, the Serpent lays her hand possessed by Hela's spirit on his shoulder. "It is all yours. Make yourself _at throne_."

After Loki wiggles her off, she watches him approaching the limit of his dreams and desires, her eyes turning back to normal crystal-blue. "Satisfied, I believe? I know I am."

The would-be-king is seated, drunk with the glory, accompanied by the horrid sound of Asgard's approaching downfall; shouts for help, grunts of pain, moans of the dying, but also angry curses in the heat of battle. With the speed of thought, a suspicious wariness overcomes him. Black veins appear on his neck from the side where Jormungandr touched him.

Loki feels as though he is being held under the water and far away from the rescue, drowning, looking up at the distorted Serpent's features through the blur, seeing the real monster underneath the womanly shape. His chest is heaving with forced inhales and exhales, making his voice sound anything but lofty and contained. "After all I have done for you…?" His right hand against his chest, the other around the arm-rest, keeping him seated on the throne by sheer miracle.

Jormungandr bows her head to his level. "Thank you for leading me into Asgard. But that was the plan… a well-laid one, so to say. And more than anything else, _we_ wanted to bring it into fruition. We gave you a new purpose after you were defeated, cast out and reduced to no more than a stolen relic. And you have fulfilled it."

"I… I have kill-killed my brother for you…" The poison sets his lungs on fire and he coughs out blood. Sweat forms on his forehead and temples and drips down, stinging his eyes. Loki tries to blink the fluid away.

"It looks like you did." With a crooked finger, she brings their faces close enough to whisper. "You want to know a secret?" The Serpent chuckles like a playful child. "We knew that you have always been the weakest link. Although the future of the entire cosmos at stake, existence of your Realm at balance, in the end, you would risk everything for the sake of him. I would do the same for my goddess. It is the basest sentiment shared by siblings. That is why this is how it ends... with both of you beyond the black river." She looks at Thor, lying motionlessly where Loki has left him. "You see? We are about the same."

"I am noth-nothing like y-you…!" Loki cuts off, choking and anguished, but he says it with such amount of disdain in his voice, it makes the corner of the Serpent's left eye twitch.

The pale blue flame in Jormungandr's stare intensifies, threatening to reduce the trickster to ashes. "Yes, perhaps you are right. You are more like him. You strive to be different, separate, but he is a part of you. He always will be. And you are defined by him. You know his strengths and fears, as well as he knows yours." Her voice is a low rumble, laced by laughter as she seizes Loki's neck, "On the contrary, I am more like," and bares her teeth, "… me. My love for my goddess does not impede my abilities. My greed for power conducts them."

"Th-Thor was te-tell-ling me… that the throne wou-would suit… me il-ill." Loki's face turns ashen. The life energy begins to leave him, leaking out of him and into the world that starts to spin around and blur. Blackness spreads in front of his very eyes.

A sharp breath of laughter erupts from the stalk-haired creature. "Well, you should have listened to your big brother. It must be so awful, knowing that Thor is far beyond your reach." With that, Jormungandr disentangles from Loki. "In another life, I would be nothing but a weak adder looking up to you as to my father. You would call me your son, and you would despise me for my appearance. Now the shadow of the one who was once mighty and triumphant exits the stage and I am the queen, you simpering slug."

Jormungandr rounds Thor's prone body, crooning. "People on Midgard have a saying: change or die. Changes are awful, I admit." She says that more to herself than to her companion. "But I would rather diminish; become slave to my sister in that grim realm of hers. I would rather be nothing. You, on the other hand, you will never change, Loki, the Silver-tongue." In a leisurely manner she walks out of the hall into the open air.

Loki sways upon the golden throne, his senses dull. Staring at the creature's back, he sags boneless against the uncomfortable rest, still bitter, and angry at himself, at Jormungandr's betrayal, and at those sad, regretful thunder-blue eyes imprinted into his mind for forever.

When his former ally disappears from sight, a bone-deep tremor hurtles through Loki's body. He blinks again, not even having the strength to wipe the sweat and blood anymore. When he opens his eyes for the last time, there is no light, there is no sound, the throne hall turns into a chasm resonating with the Serpent's promises and the screams of Asgardians that never die down.

In his most grievous, splitting moment, lost in pain and misery, the understanding that his own flaws cannot be resolved, that the crater inside his soul cannot be filled, is all that remains.

To be continued...

Bavaria

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Author's note: Brace yourselves for some heavy feels in the upcoming chapter.

**Labyrinthinemelange****:**Thank you for beta-editing and for all your encouragements.


	7. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Don't own the franchise. All heroes belong to Marvel.

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**Undying Vow**

**Chapter 6: "Undying Vow"**

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He doesn't want the solitude. Not anymore. It burns him... it burns him more than the blood-rune carved into his skin. More than Gungnir's heft; he has never forgotten how it felt, sliding out of his palm. Even now...

...he raises his chin and sees his father's face. He searches that one glittering eye, cold and pitiless. Maybe he is looking for some kind of approval, some kind of redemption...

* * *

… _but all he saw was disappointment and regret. The Asgardian sky above him was strewn with misty, twisted nebulas, sprawling quasars and a billion of stars. Never before was it more beautiful and mysterious. _

_The depthless abyss below, swiveling and ravenous, lured him, welcomed him with embrace. _

_Drowning in anxious resignation he sought the answer, which had taxed his mind since Jotunheim. _

"_I could have done it, Father! I could have done it! For you! For all of us!"_

_"No, Loki." Odin had spoken with quiet, effortless authority._

_Loki's heart beat fast. He looked into the other pair of blue eyes hovering above him. Perhaps he didn't like what he saw in them either. Perhaps fear and despair took the best of him. Anything would have been better than the prison he shared with his brothers and their father... Asgard._

_So if that was the way it ought to be... He let go. He just prayed he wasn't going to fall for forever._

_Time stood still._

* * *

The palace library is a sprawling complex of brass and copper paving and glazed tiles, fitted with books and pergamon scrolls, gathered from all the corners of the cosmos and filled with paragons of virtue. It is very silent. It always was, since Loki can remember. But today, it's a different sound of silence. Not that one of a page being turned over, or a sigh of surprise from reading through something amazing or unexpected, or a slander of boredom. This kind of silence is lifeless, forlorn, and dreary. Cold.

His heart is still beating, pounding frantically against his thorax. Consciousness arrives to Loki slowly, step by step, picture by picture, after he used up the last rags of his powers to teleport himself here, into the sanctuary he was so fond of as a child. With half of his attention Loki eyes the space around him, breathing shallow, ice-cold and pathetically frightened, resting against a bookshelf, brooding, cornered and caged like a wounded lion.

It's been so long since he last looked into a face and saw his personal absolute despair mirroring in it. Those ghastly eyes, that soulless monster burdened with an unstable mind and without morality and any inhibitions. Jormungandr. _So ridiculous and absurd._ The tiniest snicker escapes his throat. Loki swears he can hear a heckling somewhere in the back of his mind, praising his own stupidity.

Crimson water is everywhere, in between the racks, the aisles, around the desks and crates holding uncovered secrets locked inside, which he might as well as never uncover now. The pale red liquid reflects all the remaining flickers of candle-light throughout this vast salle.

Suddenly, there are blunt noises. Splashes, causing faint waves flux in to Loki's side, making his clothes soaked and smelly with the malodor of leather mixed with blood. A phantom chill runs over him. _At last; is this the end of the God of Mischief?_ _Is this how it is supposed to be? Buried underneath Odin's palace, abased and poisoned? _

Attentive fingers caress his own. Unflinching hands ghost over him as if they were trying to prove his existence. Strong arms embrace him. Loki leans back and meets an all too familiar face, furred brows, wrinkled forehead, blue eyes, and rumpled blonde hair. Loki scouts the surroundings through lowered, dark lashes. "No… you were prone to the floor… I… I… defeated you… I killed…," breath catches in his throat.

"Almost." Thor looms over him, breathless, eyes glittering, slight trepidation on his face. "This armor," he bangs a fist against his breastplate, "can take more than it looks." A guileless smile upon his face. "So does Thor."

Loki gives a sigh, _Unbelievable._ He can see that the bleeding from the wounds he inflicted has stopped. The carmine stripes stand out stark against Thor's silver armor, however. Thor's skin looks raw and shredded on the uncovered places. Loki shivers at the sight; a paralyzing moment.

"How did you find me?"

"I knew where to look. When we…," Thor smiles, but the smile does not reach his eyes, "… when we were young, you used to tell me that books are the treasure trove of knowledge and speak to us through their open pages. You liked their companionship."

Loki falls quiet for a minute. When he speaks again, his voice is muddied with poison and pure misery: "It is possible I made a poor choice. Make it quick, Thor," he pleads and prepares for whatever comes, just hoping it'll be over soon enough.

"I have seen suffering and death much already this day…," Thor's tone stutters. "Our journey to Valhalla is for another time, brother. Today, we will leave this pit together." The words sit heavy on his tongue. He blinks rapidly to make the threatening heat building up behind his eyes go away. "Hel's beasts might try to take our souls, but I will make them fight for it when they come."

"Have the nymphs' fists addled your mind, Thor?" Loki says without thinking it over too long. "Look at us; we are not much of a threat."

"I will protect you." Thor insists ardently.

This draws a shy, tentative smile from Loki. "I do not mind."

There is no resistance, no attempts to bat Thor away, when he settles down between Loki's back and the oak rack folding under the heavy books, and pulls Loki into a hug. Some of the anxiousness thins out around Loki's eyes. But beneath his hands, Thor feels his brother tremble with effort.

"We are outnumbered. The Nine Realms are in grave peril." A feeling of tightness climbs up Loki's throat. "I was a fool." His eyes are unfocused and going slowly hazy; a stark contrast to that intimidating simmering ardor from before. "I invited the darkness in and opened the door for it to enter graciously…"

Thor gives a little shrug. "That does not matter anymore."

"Asgard burns in the black of night."

"Everything still standing is worth fighting for." Thor watches his brother's sagged face attentively. "How do you feel?"

Loki stifles a snort. "Small… weak… bloody vulnerable...," he says unwell. "Tell me, truthfully, how I look?"

"Good."

"Liar...," Loki drags in a shuddering breath. "It-it hurts."

"I know." As if expecting Loki to dissolve or shatter at contact, Thor places his palm flat against Loki's chest and listens to those rampant palpitations of his brother's heart underneath his fingertips. Thor can tell that the life force is fighting against the venom. _Please, please, hold on. Please, stay with me. And everything will be alright. _

Loki isn't guarded or vicious anymore, consumed by mad scramble for rule and authority, only indifferent.

Thor raises a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose as if to fend off a headache. "Do you recall the many tales of valor we were forced to commit to memory as children?"

"Yes, I do… I love those stories."

Thor wipes off the drops of sweat gathering on Loki's forehead and temples. "And do you remember, how we went for search of Surtur's sword, and we wouldn't return home until we found it?"

The memory feels warm and palliative to Loki's stomach like a pill. "You mean… when you ignited a war with the Frost Giants with your heedless actions?" He takes a peek at the library's ceiling sprigged by the painting of the Worlds Tree, smiling halfheartedly. "Yes, yes, I remember that."

Thor knows it was a lesson he's not going to forget so soon. He had become very, very familiar with responsibility and guilt during those few days. "I was just so eager to prove myself and so desperate I couldn't find it. But you were right from the very beginning. It was concealed by ice and snow."

"You are just saying that to make me feel better."

"We would not have found the fire sword if it were not for you. It was magnificent, perfectly balanced and large, very large," Thor gestures with his hands just to stress the aforementioned. "Who of us knew it would be that large?"

"Thankfully, the dwarves fashioned the Elderstahl…," the very word tastes good on Loki's tongue, it fills him with power he wanted to possess, and regret, for he didn't master it, "…to fit the hand of whoever wields it. And you did wield it."

"Thanks to you. I could not see the path my feet were stepping upon. It was the dead of night after all. With nary a torch lit." Without too much effort, Thor imagines the high and steep frozen hillsides, sharpened by whipping violent winds, howling across the realm where the sun never rises. Nothing but wasteland of jagged ice slowly breaking apart, as far as the eye can see. Huge chunks of ice calving away from the edges and floating off into the space. The realm's surface cracking and melting, swallowing the ruins of the ancient capital city built by a once proud warrior race and ravaged by warfare. "You recited the Allfather's great battle against Surtur by heart and you recognized the valley where Surtur's defeat took place, the foot of that mountain. Loki, you never gave up… You are not giving up now, are you, brother?"

Eventually, slowly, very slowly, Loki's shoulders loose the tension. His breath calms. The wild heartbeat evens out, remaining strong and steady, humming against Thor's palm. Pale hands come up to reach the tanned ones. "Never."

In return, Thor curls in the pliable body tighter. "Loki, we must go now and seek Ardo the Healer, he will find a remedy."

Loki shots Thor a withering side-look. _Don't do this. Don't be affable. Don't take hatred away from me. __It is all I have left._ Pausing, rolling words upon words in his mind until it goes slow and quiet. "The fault lies not with our stars, Thor. It lies with me. I am the dread you once swore to hunt down and slay like your father did. I am the forger of mischief. The one, whom Aesir gods and goddesses chide in their myths and legends, passing them down for generations and reshaping them to suit their own needs." Loki cannot resist the feeling of reiterating something already said sometime before. "Whatever I do, eventually, it all falls into lunacy. It is the unspoken truth. It is my eternal predilection. We both...," his deceptively steady breath hitches, "... both know how this story ends."

Thor's face drains of its color. He runs a solicitous, trembling hand through Loki's hair. Trying to soothe his brother and himself, he inhales and attempts to muster up something to dissipate the unadulterated and familiar sense of apprehension racing through his veins. And, of course, he should reply something of the sort Heimdall would, like, ´there is always hope´.

Thor opens his mouth to speak. The only sound that he manifests is a harsh gasp. _Jane. Your world full of wonders… we'll we see it again?_ The arduous mettle, the calm demeanor he's been determined to sustain and control, flees him. It leaves Thor ruminating and quelled where he sits. With his upbeat spirit in tatters, his pride burned down to the roots with the rest of Realm Eternal, what resides and lingers is sadness, shame and an unknown edgy warmth routing inside his guts like wildfire.

Memories are back: the earthly night sky, the whispering talk by the fire, the destruction, death and life, stream of unhindered energy penetrating into his body, the battle, the defeat, the rejection and the fall. _Why did you let go, Loki? You looked me in the eyes and you let go._

As some kind of a subconscious reaction to Thor's state of mind, a shiver runs through the lithe body in his embrace. Thor tightens the grasp on his brittle brother once more and sets his heart that, perhaps, he tries this question later and Loki will answer.

When Thor speaks at last, his words are muffled but unmistakably sad: "I will not let it. And you will not either." They come out in a whisper, in a hiss of breathe against Loki's cheek. "I will never lose my faith in you. Do not forsake me for it, brother."

Loki does not respond verbally, but at the very last, relaxes minutely. His muscles unwind, he settles against Thor's chest, loosening the strife, possibly even outright antagonism, gathering inside him since Thor stepped into the library and Loki recognized his face.

"Where you go, I will go." Thor's tone is dignified and compassionate, fringed a little bit with residual anger. "We will not wreck here. We will not die here, buried underneath this crumbling palace. We will fight them and defeat them, together. And then we will go home."

The thought of a balmy day in Asgard's eternal spring arrives in Loki's mind as a surreal reminiscence of the times long passed. "Home... where is it?"

Thor can hear the discontent in his brother's voice. "With me; whatever fate lies before me, you are a part of it," he announces, unbending, in the moment the last candle around them burns out. All at once, the library resembles the void: the darkness that feeds; the silence that devours. What is coming next? – is a disturbing thought he doesn't want to dwell on; Thor grasps the responsibility, the power over the lives of the both of them he has been given right here and now.

The Thunderer can sense that his strength is replenishing but still is weakened too much to use it. Nevertheless, "I will battle the Serpent and its loathing nightmares, I slaughter them all for you," he reiterates as he wipes the sweat off Loki's brows, adding a little bit quieter: "But I want something from you in return."

Loki turns his head to the side, warding the pain off by sheer force of his willingness, thinking it's the hardest thing he'd ever done. "What is it?"

"You have to promise me that whatever happens, you will not let go."

Nothing more than biting honesty in those words and a strange amount of self-indictment push Loki to give Thor an affirming nod. "Brother." Loki closes his eyes and lets out a breath; his faint half-smile widens the slightest bit. "You really are the biggest, sweetest idiot in the whole Nine Realms."

The End…?

Bavaria

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Author's note: Hope you liked it. I had a hell of a time writing it, literally. See you next time ;)

**Labyrinthinemelange: **Thank you for beta-editing this humble piece of literature ;)


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